I Know You By Heart
by Around here somewhere
Summary: "Do you Ever wonder that? What're you going to do with out him?" What if Scandal's universe was a little more like ours? They would have a little harsher reality, because in the real world, Fitz's recovery from the assassination attempt would be a miracle, and the Vatican has only recognized some twelve and a half thousand of those since the first century.
1. What We Wanted

Disclaimer: I do not own Scandal, or the song 'I Know You By Heart' – just in case anyone was wondering.

A/N: So what I do when I already have three stories I start a new story, of course :) Though, I'm going to tell you all now, This one's only going to be posted on Fridays only until I finish one of the other ones... I thought of this one listening to the song 'I know you By Heart' as sung by Eva Cassidy... so hence the title... It starts at the end of 2x10 ...Enjoy :)

"We were like children  
Laughing for hours  
The joy you gave me  
Lives on and on  
'Cause I know you by heart"

I Know You By Heart

Chapter One: What We Wanted

After the day she had had, Olivia was sure that she should be getting massive brownie points for even having made it through the day. Becky was caught, and Fitz was safe – that's all that mattered, right? Never mind the fact that he was probably never going to wake up, and Mellie had decided to forge his signature that morning. How had she managed to fall in love with a man married to someone so evil? Never mind that Mellie was only worrying about herself and talking about signing it so that she can run the country forging Fitz's signatures – that may have worked a hundred years ago, but it wasn't going to work today. It was the hope, and the happiness that she had let herself feel like he was going to be back, that he was alive. Because right now, he was dead. He was lying on a bed where she had just gotten access to see him. That wasn't Fitz. That wasn't her Fitz. Mellie's words were echoing around in her head "What are you gonna do without him?" What the hell kind of right did Mellie have to say anything like that to her? She was his wife, she had gotten to be his wife and she didn't even give a damn about him, only herself. She was worried about herself, not Fitz. Up until then – she just hadn't been thinking about it. Or she had tried to, until she was planning his funeral.

Then, she had been forced to think about it. Cyrus had chastised her, which had made her feel a little bit better, allowed her – once the plans were finished – to push it back again. The fact that he was still here, it had to mean something, right? He wasn't just hanging around in limbo for no reason, because no one deserved that. No matter how much she knew that she couldn't lose him, no matter how she would fall apart – she didn't want him to be suffering. She knew that he wasn't in pain, but she also knew that he would be so upset knowing that he was like that. She sighed, collapsing onto the little couch in her office. She just wanted to see him one more time, to hear him say her name. That's all that she wanted. Except that was a lie.

If it was his time to go, she would have to learn to deal with that – in whatever way she could. But she wanted her fifteen Christmases, more. She wanted her life with him. She had always figured that she would have her life with him. That once he was out of office, and once he was out of the public eye – they would be together. He would be older, but he'd be free of Mellie. They'd get married, have a kid. All that was out the window, and she hated Mellie. This was first time that she actually hated her. Annoyed, peeved, angry – those she had felt, those she had known. But the pure hatred that she felt right then – that was new. Would she even be allowed at the funeral? She assumed Cyrus and everyone would fight for her – that it would be in fact weird to the press if she wasn't there – but she hadn't even gotten fifteen years of almost Christmases, no kid to use as leverage to help her cope. She took a deep, rattling breath. Would memories hold her out until what? She got over him? She knew there was no 'getting over him' while he was alive and walking around, How the fuck was she going to be 'ok' after _this_? She had given up everything for him, made his happiness everything. What was she going to do without him? But there had been something, when she was lying there with him in his bed. Something, like he was still there.

Quinn appeared in the doorway, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

"Did you need something, Quinn?" Olivia asked, looking up from the binder she had been pretending to inspect.

"I do," She said, taking a step into the room – pausing like she was a child waiting to be yelled at for speaking up, "I need to know why you aren't on the phone right now with the FBI telling them about Hollis Doyle. I'm pretty sure he blew up Citron, and killed my boyfriend, and ruined my life. And don't say he didn't, because I really think he did. AND he hired an assassin to shoot the President of the United States. And you're not doing a single thing about it. I need to know why. I need you to start talking."

She looked at Quinn for a second, none of this was her fault. She deserved answers, she had known that they had destroyed many, many lives in what they had done. They had changed people's stories, history. Who knew what would happen as a result. Quinn and Reston, however, were two of the people that she actually had observed being directly effected by it. Reston, was Reston. But Quinn? She might be a little cheery for her own good, but she was smart. She was quick, and she deserved answers. She deserved a little bit, and Olivia was working overtime in her own brain trying to figure out how much or how little to fill her in on. At the very least, to keep her from looking into it more.

"Ok," Olivia said, quietly and Quinn, who had been bracing herself looked shocked.

"Ok?"

"Let's talk."

Olivia, on the one hand, was happy to be thinking about something other than Fitz's current condition. Even if what they had done – what she had done, had caused this. Weird things happened when you messed with history, even without a time machine, she knew that the effects of what they had done would be big. Widespread, and might go wrong, but she had wanted Fitz to be happy. Selfish, and now he was shot, lying in a hospital bed. What if she had let him leave the White House last year? She was trying to get herself back onto a track to talk to Quinn when her phone rang. She looked over at it on the coffee table.

'Cyrus Beene'

She had to pick it up, Quinn – bouncing with excitement as she was – could wait. It might even give her a few extra thoughts to think of something to tell her. She reached over and picked up the phone.

"Cy?" She answered cautiously.

"He's awake," was Cy's only reply.

There was something colder in his voice than what she might have expected, it sort of reminded her of when he had confirmed that he was awake in the hall before they went into the room. Before they had gone into that room and she had found out what Mellie had done. The woman still made her blood boil, and the fact that she had once put so much stock into what she thought of her made her sick. The man almost died, the man that was the love of her life was shot in the head and lying in a bed, in a coma. His 'wife' made a power play. Everything was about power to her, even if the father of her children, even her still unborn one was fighting for his life. She wanted to make sure that she still got the power. Was Mellie even human

"Cy – I can't do this twice in one day," She told him, taking a deep breath, "I could barely do it once."

"His doctors just called me, Liv," Cyrus sounded the happiest she had heard him in weeks, "I'm on my way there – I can stop by your office and pick you up. We can talk on the way. I'm downstairs."

She hung up and looked over at Quinn.

"I have to go," She told her, and Quinn looked like she had been swatted by a newspaper – she did that a lot, "We can do this later. I'm sorry – but I REALLY have to go."

She got up from the couch, and barely remembered grabbing anything. Her coat – her bag – her gloves – getting on the elevator – they were all less than a blur as she climbed into the backseat of a town car – in with Cyrus. Who was nearly cackling, she was sure he was already going over his options to break the news to Sally Langston. He was thinking of just the perfect way to oust her, to make it sting, and make it hurt. She was thinking about his eyes, his smile – the laugh lines around his eyes that had been vacant while he rested, while he was in the coma. She thought for a second about asking whether anyone had contacted Mellie – but didn't want to ruin the moment. If she was there, she was there. It didn't matter to her, it only mattered that Fitz was awake. That he was going to be ok.

"We weren't able to get in touch with the First Lady." Cyrus told her knowingly, "Her phone is of – typical, huh? I figure we can wait a little while before we try her again."

"Cyrus."

"Oh, please," Cyrus said, as they got out of the car – and were met by Tom at back door they had been using, "The first thing he sees when he wakes up is her, he might go back to sleep – thanks for meeting us, Tom."

"No problem," He replied, opening the door, "I'm sure he wants to see Miss Pope right away. I can get you through security faster – but I'm afraid that the doctor's in there with him right now doing a quick exam. No one's allowed in."

"We can wait," Olivia said, and Tom nodded.

"I figured you wouldn't have a problem with that," He said, as they stopped outside of Fitz's door.

"I have to go call James – I ran out of the house before I even told him what happened," He said, walking away towards the waiting room.

"Miss Pope – If I could speak candidly..."

"You?" Olivia asked him, noticing that Hal was not there – she assumed he was in the room with the doctor and Fitz, "Sure, Tom. Go ahead."

"Alright," He said, taking a deep breath, "I don't really know what you two were doing at the time of the – incident. But I was at the restaurant, and was on his detail from then on out. I realize getting shot, and being in a coma like this probably erases all that – but he was a mess. The whole G8 Hal and I were helping him cover up his drinking, he was calling for you in his sleep – loud enough that we heard it the next room over. He made a mistake – what he said to you..."

"Tom?" Olivia said, he had trailed off – she wasn't sure whether or not she was interrupting him, Tom spoke so seldom, "Ten minutes ago I was trying to figure out how I was going to survive this, if he didn't. How I was going to go to his funeral and sit next to 'the grieving widow'. It wasn't just that I was losing the man that I – I-"

She always stuttered with this.

"I love him, Tom," Olivia said, "And he's alive."

"He's alive."

"That's enough for me."

"He loves you, too."

The door swung open, and the Navy doctor that Cyrus had insisted on getting for him came out. He nodded to both of them, as Cy came running back from the sitting area.

"James is coming," Cyrus said, as Hal came out of the room – they had maybe a half hour tops before Mellie would show up, "We're getting our little girl, once I speak with Fitz."

Olivia smiled, and the two of them pushed through the doors. She wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting. Him sitting up in the chair? Fully dressed like he had just hanging around at Camp David? That just because he had woken up meant that he had lost the paleness that he had had earlier that day? That it would be less horrifying to see him in a hospital bed with a giant scar on his forehead if he had his eyes open and was talking to her? If he was telling her that he was going to be fine, that he loved her, and she was going to get her happy ever after with him afterall? That he couldn't cheat her out of that? That he couldn't let anyone cheat them out of their life together?

"Fitz," She gushed, rushing over to his bedside, and kissing his forehead.

She pulled back, her hand in the uninjured side of his hair – and he was looking up at her. They hadn't moved his bed, she assumed just because he might be stiff – though, they had been moving his bed up and down every few hours. Her heart sank a little as she realized that he wasn't looking up at her like he usually might have – his stare was blank. His mouth was just slightly open, and there was something wrong, not just wrong, but terribly wrong. She panicked immediately, looking over at Cyrus, which made Fitz look over at him too. She was looking into his face as he looked over at one of his oldest friends, trying to see even the slightest bit of recognition in his eyes. There was none. He looked back at her – and he was confused.

"I'm going to go talk to the doctor," Cyrus said, easing himself out of the room.

She could see it, and she dropped down in the chair – knowing that she didn't want to lose it there. She could do that later, but she would not scare him. He looked scared enough as it was, but he was staring at her now, as she put a reassuring hand on his arm. Willing him to recognize her, or to at least feel a little more at ease. A little more relaxed. Then she saw it, he was furrowing his eye brow, staring right at her face. He was trying to figure out who she was, and she looked right back at him. She didn't want to obstruct anything that might help him out. She took a deep breath, wondering if she should tell him. She wanted him to get it. She kept eye contact with him.

All this time she was racking her own brain, trying to figure out anything that might help him. She could tell him who she was – how much he loved her, how much she loved him until the day she died – but it wouldn't do anything if he couldn't connect it in his brain. Which was apparently a little more scrambled than they had thought. He had a little bit of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth – and she grabbed the closest towel to dab it away for him. Then, as she was putting it back, she remembered. When he was stressed out, or worried about something when they were together, so much so that he couldn't sleep, she used to run her fingers across his cheek, and down the side of his neck until he fell asleep.

She braced herself for the chance of it not working, then reached out and put her fingertips onto his face. He didn't stop looking up at her, not at all distracted by the feeling over her hand. She then did was she used to do – running her hand up his jaw, up aorund his ear, hugging his hairline, and then down his neck. He shivered slightly, and blinked. She did it again, and again – each time he blinked it was like the idea got clearer and clearer to him. Until he blinked, and his stare changed. It was soft, he may not have known her name, and he definitely couldn't articulate it – but he knew her. She could see it in his eyes.

She turned to follow Cyrus out into the hall, needing to know what the doctors were saying, needing to know what his prognosis was. He was not himself, he wasn't Fitz. She had known this was a possibility, he had a bullet in his brain, he almost died – they were just lucky that his heart monitor was beeping. Then she paused, right by the door because the monitor was going haywire. She looked back at him, lying there helpless, and he had his hand a little up, like he was reaching for her, and she went right back over and took his hand. What else was there to do?


	2. Game Officially Changed

A/N: So, in case any of you were wondering, I own no part of George Orwell's 1984...and, it's officially Friday where I am...Enjoy :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Two: Game Officially Changed

"We need to release a statement – today," Olivia said as she walked into her offices, where her team had been on call for a day and a half, "I can only stay a couple of minutes before I have to leave. I need a statement that the President's condition is worse than originally thought. That they're still assessing his injuries and we won't know the full extent for at least a couple weeks if not months. That he woke up alert but his health status has since changed, and therefore his administration is pulling his letters of reinstatement – I have to go."

"Where?" Harrison asked, and Abby and Huck exchanged knowing looks, but she didn't have the time or will to stop and think about it.

"The hospital," Olivia replied, taking a deep breath, "He is awake, but he's not doing well."

"So why do you need to be there?" Harrison asked her, "We need you here, holding down the fort. Making sure that - "

"Harrison," Olivia stopped him, fully aware that her voice had hit a warning note – if not only because of his reaction, "I need you all to work on the statement. Make the public sympathetic, release it to friendly media: Kimberely Mitchell, BNC, People – they just voted him 'the people's president'. They love him. Use that."

"When will you be back?" Abby asked her - she had been trying to spend as much time as possible at the hospital with Fitz – he seemed calmer when she was there.

"I'll try to stop by tomorrow," She told her non-commitally.

Honestly, it would depend on how Fitz was doing, even when she had left he seemed panicked. Not that he could say so, because he couldn't speak, or even move all that well. He still didn't seem to fully recognize anyone, but for some reason he seemed more at ease when she was there – not fully relaxed. But he sensed a connection with her, at least that much was clear. If her being there was what calmed him, that was what she was going to do. It was what he needed, he needed someone to tell him that it was all ok. He may not be able to speak, but he could hear – he just needed someone in his corner. Even if she wasn't sure he could even understand her – he must – he had to be in there somewhere.

"I have to go."

She didn't offer up anymore explanation, she just left. They knew what they were doing, she had trained them well. They would send her the statement that they were going to send in before they actually sent it, that was protocol. Or, as much of a protocol as they had around the office. Every case needed to be handled separately, with a different set of gloves and with a different schedule, but the rule was whenever anything was going out, she approved it. Particularly in this case. She headed downtown, to her apartment to take one of the fastest showers she could ever barely remember taking, and heading back to the hospital. Tom had gotten her and Cyrus passes into the hospital wing, the equivalent of a hard pass at the White House. All she had to do was flash it at the secret service as she walked in.

"Miss Pope," Hal said as she flashed her card, so she paused, "Please come with me."

"What's this about?" Olivia asked, she had sped through the entire city to get back there literally as fast as she could.

"Your pass to see the President," Hal started, then took a casual breath as he led her down a side hallway, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it's been revoked. I'm supposed to take your pass, and escort you from the premisses. The administration thanks you for all your hard work – but we see no need for you to have visitation. Given your current assignment-"

"Hal," Olivia heard Tom's voice as he rounded the corner – she honestly had not heard him speak so much the entire time she knew him as he had in the past forty-eight hours, "What the hell are you doing? I think you're forgetting who we serve. If that is the case, allow me to remind you – we serve the President. At the will of the President, no less."

"I - "

"The President, no one else," Tom spoke right over him without blinking, "What would he want? What has he ever wanted? Miss Pope to be allowed wherever the hell she damn pleases, especially if it involves seeing him."

There was a few seconds of silence at Tom looked down at Hal. Olivia had never bothered to check which on of them had the higher rank. But, it was pretty clear at this point that Tom was, in his own quiet way, pulling rank over his partner. Hal was shrinking back – quick. It wasn't really something that she saw often, and was significantly surprised.

"The first lady-"

"Well, it's a very good thing that she's not in charge," Tom said, this time he was speaking through clenched teeth, then took a breath to calm down before he turned to Olivia kindly, "Miss Pope, come along with me – he just woke up a couple minutes ago from his nap. He's been in and out all morning."

"Olivia, where have you been?" Cyrus asked as he walked down the hall to join the party.

"I was just bringing her over, sir," Tom replied.

"But, what the _hell_ is she doing over here?"

"The first lady..."

"Of course she did," Cyrus said, glaring over at Hal – who hadn't said a word since Cyrus had appeared, "C'mon, Liv."

He nearly dragged her back out into the main hallway, and down the rest of the way to Fitz's room. They had him sitting up a little in bed, but there was a pillow around his neck to help keep his head up. They had changed his bandage on his head since she had left, which was encouraging. Under the category of 'not encouraging' was the way he seemed dazed off. Like he wasn't really seeing anything at all. More troubling though, was Mellie who was sitting on a swivel chair by his bedside like it was a perch, just rambling on and on as she and Cyrus eased themselves into the back of the room.

"...The kids are staying at school. They wanted to come see you, but it would be a media circus, and we already have one of those – we might as well wait until it dies down, right?" She was saying, "Also, don't worry about the presidency, I've got it under control you just need to get it together. Pull yourself together Fitz, because I need to be briefed on the missiles..."

And she promptly started going into her own plan of attack on East Sudan, and Fitz just drifted in and out of listening. When he did seem like he was alert and could hear her, Olivia could see him panicking. It was subtle, because the only thing he really could move at the moment were very basic motions of his face, and his eyes, and his hand occasionally. He didn't recognize Mellie, and he probably didn't recognize half of whatever it was that Mellie was trying to get him to tell her. Tell her. The man hadn't even spoken a word since he woke up, and she wanted to know where the big red button was. She wanted to tell Mellie to shut the hell up, that she was scaring him when he was already scared enough.

She understood that Mellie was upset, and grieving the loss of her power. But Olivia wanted to hit her. She would do anything just to have him be able to say one word, to just know what he was thinking, how his mental state really was – because they had no idea. They were sending him for scans in the afternoon – that's why it was so important that she get back. She wanted him to be Fitz, but not because of any other reason than because she didn't want to lose Fitz. She wanted him to be comfortable, not confused. Most of all, she was just happy that he was awake, alive. Everything else would be icing on the cake at this point.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Mellie asked as she stopped talking, and Olivia went over to Fitz's side.

"Now isn't the time to be petty, Mellie," Cyrus said as Olivia put herself into Fitz's view.

He looked up at her and lifted his hand, as pathetically as he could about an inch or two off the bed. She took it in her hand without a second thought. She put a hand down onto his face, and he closed his eyes. She could see him relaxing, visible see the stress that he had just been under going away.

"It's ok," She told him, just in case he could hear her – even if he was just getting frightened by Mellie and her facial expressions, "Everything's going to be fine. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, ok?"

"HE RECOGNIZES _HER_?"

"Mellie..." Cy tried.

"No. Get her out of _my_ husband's room. Get her the fuck out."

"Mellie, come out into the hallway..."

"No, I will not be removed from my husband's room. I'm not the one that needs to be taken out. That bitch-"

"Mellie..."

Fitz was picking up on the yelling, and he looked a little pained. He was looking at her, confused.

"Mellie, if you're going to have this little hissy fit, go out into the damn hallway with Cyrus," Olivia said calmly, looking over at her, not letting go of Fitz's hand, "You may not want me here, but as long as he seems to want me here – I'm here. I'm not going anywhere -"

"Mellie," Cyrus said, looking over at her angrily, "Out. In. The. Hall. Please."

He could take Mellie out of the room, but he couldn't muffle her voice. Olivia set her bag down at her feet as she sat down with him. His eyes were in the very corner of his socket – he was trying to keep her in his view - and Olivia turned to the nurse as she walked in. He wasn't going to be taken away for his scans for another couple of hours, so she wanted him to be comfortable.

"Can we move him?" Olivia asked the nurse and she looked at her strangely – but it was the one that had been on the night before, so it wasn't like she didn't know her.

"Sorry, Sweetie?" She asked.

"Rearrange him a little bit," Olivia rephrased, "So that he's not just lying on his back."

"Oh, of course," She replied, and Olivia got up, "I can get some of the transport guys?"

"Tom can help," Olivia said, "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," She replied, as Olivia pulled Tom into the room, and they slipped pillows up underneath the his far side so that he was on his side, and then the nurse left.

"He looks a little comfier," Tom commented, and Olivia nodded.

"He's a side sleeper anyway."

"You would know," He teased, making her crack a smile, "Sir, I'm going to go back outside of the door. Start to feel better, ok?"

This was one of the reasons she loved Tom, because even though Fitz didn't recognize him any more than Cyrus or Mellie, or even her he still put in the effort. He cared. She could hear Mellie starting to yell at Cyrus again, which meant that Fitz could too. She reached into her bag and pulled out the book she brought, one of Fitz's favorites, 1984. Well, it was one of Old Fitz's favorites, she wasn't quite sure about this new Fitz. She took a deep breath, and started reading it to herself, so pass the time, and try to drown Mellie out.

"...I AM THE FIRST LADY."

Thank you, Captain, but that's certainly fairly irrelevant at this point.

"...She has no business being here."

She had more than Mellie did. Sure they had the twenty years of a fake marriage, and two very real kids with another one on the way. That didn't mean that he loved Olivia less, or that he even – at the time of the gunshot – loved Mellie at all. It just meant that she had a piece of paper, Olivia had had him. And she had thrown him away, what? Because it wasn't 'right'? It seemed so stupid now, and what if she had let him runaway from the White House last year? What if they had gone off together, she would still have her Fitz, the 'Old Fitz' rather than the Fitz that was now lying in the bed. With God only knew what kind of capabilities to recover. It had to be able to get a little bit better. She couldn't think of asking for anything more than him starting to talk again. She looked down from her book for a second, and realized that he was just watching her, listening to Mellie screaming in the hall.

"... 'It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions'..." She started to read to him, and she didn't even notice when Mellie's screaming stopped, or when Cyrus walked back into the room.

"I remember teaching with this book at Harvard, it was an assignment," Cyrus qualified, "I had the class re-read it, because most of them read it in high school. Then they had to write their term papers on it, and what it meant about what might happen to a truly free society. I remember Fitz's paper. He said he loved it because it was a testament to how important it was to keep people at the forefront of any political system... too much power in the hands of one man needed to be checked, and if it was given to the wrong man, even for the right reasons, it would have terrible effects. I gave him a C on the paper. I knew him by then, he had written it while he was drunk, probably at four in the morning. But that's when I knew where he was going."

"The real deal – and we got him shot," Cyrus added on.

"He's going to be ok, Cy," Olivia replied – Fitz had long since fallen asleep.

"He's practically a vegetable."

"We don't know that yet," Olivia said, trying to hide the shutter that started when he said the word everyone had been tip-toeing around.

"So he can move his eyes and sometimes it seems like he's paying attention," Cyrus said dismissively, "And he seems to at least realize that you're someone who loves him. Or someone he loves, or something along those lines."

"We'll see," Olivia paused as the doctors came in with some rather muscular guys to wheel him down to the scans, "Once they see what's going on in there. Fitz."

He opened his eyes again, it took him a minute to get orientated, and she stroked the side of his hair across his forehead, careful to avoid his bandage.

"They're going to take you to do a couple tests," She told him, and he didn't really make much of a response either way, "Cy and I will be here when you get back.

**Three Years Ago: **

"Livy," Fitz said as he walked into the hotel room they had both inhabiting for the current leg of the campaign, all her bags were packed up and ready to go, "Where are you going?"

"I can't do this, anymore," Olivia told him as she popped the handle up on her main suitcase, "I can't help you, and I'm not strong enough for this. I just have to get out of here."

"Liv," Fitz tried to appeal to her as he shut the door behind himself and walked the rest of the way into the room – Mellie had been sent to Texas for the week, "Can we talk about this? Just wait a minute, don't do this. I-"

"Don't you dare tell me you love me again," She said, and she watched his shoulders drop, dipping his head a little bit.

"What do you want me to say?" He asked her, dropping the flowers he had apparently been bringing her, "Livy. Tell me what to do. I'll do it. Anything."

"Fitz - I don't know what I was even thinking putting myself into this situation."

"That's not fair, I told you to walk away," Fitz said, immediately blaming himself, "I told you to pretend like nothing happened. I told you-"

"I know, Fitz," Olivia said, pausing, "I wasn't blaming you."

"Then what are you doing?" He asked, "Livy, please. C'mon, don't do this. Don't -"

"Fitz, it's not your fault - it's mine," Olivia said, taking a deep breath as she threw her bag over her shoulder, and started rolling her suitcase towards the door, "I thought I could do this, but I just can't."

"Liv, please," Fitz said, holding out his hand like it would stop her, "I lo- I will do anything you ask, I swear. Just tell me what you need. Let's sit down and talk about this. Please, Liv."

"Fitz..."

"Please, Liv," He said, walking over and standing in front of the door, "Don't go, let's just sit down and talk about this. Olivia. What is it that you can't handle? Mellie? She's gone, I'll file for divorce tomorrow."

"You can't do that."

"Why? The election?" He asked as he kept trying to look into her face, she kept hiding it from him - she wasn't sure what would happen if she could see his eyes, pleading with her, "Screw the election. Who the hell cares about the election? I'm going to lose anyway. Livy, please - don't leave. We'll sit here, and we'll figure it out. We'll plan, and be ok. Please. Just don't leave me. Stay, please."

"Fitz, you need to move," She said, knowing that her voice sounded robotic.

"Please," He said, putting a hand underneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him, "Please. Don't do this. Talk it out with me. Livy, I - I can't do this without you. I can't do anything without you. I can't-"

She dropped her bags for a second, and wrapped her arms up around his strong shoulders. He seemed a little relieved, like he thought she was folding. Looking back, that was the most heartbreaking part - the part that had eventually, and by eventually it was a week, she returned to the campaign, and him. But in that moment, she went up onto her tip-toes to kiss him. She pressed her lips against his, softly at first, then let herself loose. She could feel his hands fall onto her hips as she kissed him against the door, and she felt him relax in her arms for a minute before he rotated them around. She felt her back hit the door, and so did he. She reached for the door handle, upset - but not sure if there were tears in her eyes - as Fitz pulled away, and took a step back.

"I'm sorry," She told him, "I love you. I just can't handle this. I can't - You can do this. You can be President. You will be president, and you're going to be great. But I can't be here for it. There's no way it would work out."

**Present Day:**

Olivia had fallen asleep on Cyrus's shoulder, and he seemed to think that she needed the sleep - because he didn't wake her up. He was probably right to just let it happen, because there was no way she was sleeping any other time once Fitz was back in the room. She hadn't slept since he had gotten shot. And she hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep since their little scene in the restaurant. They had been nights of tossing, and turning, and tormented dreams of Fitz and issues that were yet to come. Point was, she needed the rest - and Cyrus was more than willing to just let her sleep. It was a blank sleep, nothing swirling around in her head, just a flat passing out. She woke up as they were wheeling Fitz back into the room, the doctor coming in to talk to her and Cyrus.

"He's asleep, pretty exhausting getting poked and prodded," The doctor told them.

"What'd you find?" Cyrus asked him, and the doctor took a deep breath.

"The injuries to his brain are much more extensive than we originally thought," He said, "It's very hard to tell what kind of improvements might be possible. The damage from the bullet caused scar tissue in the brain, and - we're not sure. He's stable, his heart and brain are just as sturdy as any other man of his age at this point, he won't be crashing, and he shouldn't - at this point - have any further set backs."

"So, he won't get worse," Olivia summed up the doctor's rambling, and the doctor nodded.

"Well that's not really saying much, is it?" Cyrus said bitterly, and Olivia shot him a look.

"What are we looking at recovery wise?" Olivia asked him.

"We're looking at fairly significant damage," The doctor spoke more freely now that he seemed to realize Olivia wasn't going to attack him, "And his prognosis, it's much like that of a stroke victim. A portion of his brain isn't there anymore. And he's young - well, for this sort of brain damage. There's a possibility that other sections of his brain will - very slowly, over time start to compensate for the loss."

"But..." Olivia helped him along.

"But with the way that he's presenting now, that does not seem likely," The doctor said, "Speaking candidly? He might start to recognize more people, and he has function of most of his body, with the exception of possibly his left arm - it's just a matter of whether he can get there."

"So what you're saying is..."

"I don't like percentages," He said, "But the odds of him being the guy you both new ever again are not in his favor. Odds are, he might have a couple of advancements - but even those are going to be the equivalent of learning to climb Everest."


	3. Him

A/N: Suprise! Wicked (I know, my New England is showing) early update! Hope you guys all enjoy :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Three: Him.

Olivia was sent home Saturday night – two days, almost three since Fitz had woken up. She had relaxed slightly, once the doctors had told them that he wouldn't be getting any worse, but it was a cold comfort. Cyrus had caught her dozing at about eleven, Fitz was still awake, but only barely. He told her to go home, and get a good night's rest – he would stay with Fitz for the night, he'd call her if anything happened. He assured her that she could be right back there in the morning, as soon as she woke up. Actually, he insisted that she promise to come back as soon as she did, because odds were Fitz would already be up. He was calmer when she was there, more at ease – and that, that was everything right then. Literally, that was about all that they could tell from any sort of mannerisms or reactions in his eyes. It was whether he was stressed, upset, or uncomfortable versus when he was at ease, calm, or comfortable. It was all they had to go on.

It was just about midnight by the time she finally got home. She had stopped by the office to find that they had all already gone home. Which she probably should have known was going to be the case, having approved the statement for the press that would save Mellie's ass that morning. It had been sent out right away. The tension was off, and everyone was saved. No one was going to look into it, or care as long as the question of what exactly Fitz's condition was was left unanswered. And, they were planning on keeping it under wraps as long as possible. Then, when the public did find out, it would be 'Oh, poor President Grant' instead of anything else. She took a heavy sigh as she pulled down the sheets on her bed. 'Oh, poor President Grant', 'Oh, poor Mellie', 'Oh, poor kids'. That's what it was going to be. Two of those, she could handle. Two of those, she was thinking herself already. It was the other one that might in fact turn out to be the death of her.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

She had just made contact with her pillow.

"Coming!" She tried to assure whoever was knocking on the door, but she was pretty sure it just came out tired and bitchy.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

She decided to sneak a peek through her peep hole, and sighed, rolling her eyes as she realized Edison was waiting, as patiently as was possible for him, out in the hallway. She started to prepare herself for the fight that would be ensuing, but she just simply could not find the energy to feel any sort of emotion as she opened up the door. Edison walked in without even being invited, like he owned the place, not even waiting for her to step back and let him enter. He just brushed past her without even a second thought. Usually, this would have thrown him right into her angriest circle of hell, but she nothing. She was so mentally, emotionally, and physically drained that she just took a breath, and turned to address him. She left the door open, hoping that he wouldn't be long before he was hitting the road.

"What exactly don't you understand about 'good-bye'?" Olivia asked, not with any sort of attitude or power.

"What's going on with you, Liv?" He asked, and Olivia took a deep breath.

"Nothing, and especially nothing that concerns you." She replied, "The president is awake, I've just left his hospital room. You and your little sewing circles of conspiracy theorists can rest easy. And you can go home. Because I don't want you here."

"That was some statement retracting President Grant's reinstatement letter," He just wanted to keep the conversation going.

"Edison, I have been up for almost seventy hours straight with maybe an hour nap in there somewhere," She told him, "In case you were wondering, 'good-bye' means that we're done. I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear from you, and I certainly do not want you showing up at my apartment. I don't want you."

"I've always known you were a sore loser, but this is a new one," Edison laughed it off, like he thought that she was kidding.

"I'm not - "

"C'mon, Liv," He said, and she cringed as he lowered himself down onto one knee and held up a ring – a ring she had already given back to him once, "We're good together - "

"Edison, we are not good together," Olivia said, without even giving it a thought, "You think we're good together, but we're not. You need a woman who's going to be at your beck and call, who's willing to have your kids, and live off in the country somewhere. I don't want that – actually, that's a lie, I do want that – I just don't want that with you. I need to breath, Edison – you've never given that to me. I need to be able to walk around during the day not being constantly reminded by my husband that I'm _his. _I want to constantly _want to_ remind myself. You're an asshole with your self righteous crap, and I can't deal with that. I'd go insane, I'd probably shoot myself in the head."

"Liv."

"That was mean, I'm sorry – but I warned you that I'm tired," She told him, "That was harsh – a simple 'no' would have sufficed, so erase the last twenty four-ish seconds, and go with that. 'No'."

Edison left fairly quickly, and the focus and drive that it would have taken her to feel guilty was put to better work. She would feel bad in the morning for how she treated Edison. How she had started to date him again, knowing that his feelings for her were ten fold of anything that she could ever summon up for him. How she had known that eventually, she would be breaking up with him, purely because there was just no way that she could settle for marrying him. How she had hoped everyday that Fitz would just show up and swoop her right up off her feet and away from Edison. Yes, she was a horrible person. But the effort that it would have taken to harbor on all of that was being put into making sure that one foot was stepping out in front of the other and eventually she would be crash-landing onto her bed. The rest of it would come in the morning, because as soon as her head hit the pillow the world was gone.

The world she fell into as she fell asleep was entirely different, it was warm, inviting, and peaceful. She was sitting on the shore, on a rock with her toes in the sand. Fitz, she could see him standing on the water's edge, t-shirt flapping in the wind across his back. It was after he had served his time as president – he was a free man, in more ways than one, only now he was very happily tied with something invisible to her. But then again, he always had been, hadn't he? And she had always been attached, bonded, even more so to him. The waves were crashing around his ankles, she wanted to go out and meet him, but she couldn't move. The sun had her sluggish, but it didn't really matter because Fitz was walking back to her.

"I love you," He told her, then paused slightly as he himself dropped down on one knee, "Marry me, Livy."

No. This couldn't be happening. Fitz was lying in a bed at the hospital, where God only knew if he even knew hwo he was. He couldn't talk, so how was he talking? How was he even holding himself up? What the hell was going on, and who was this imposter proposing to her?

"Don't give up on me, Olivia," Suddenly he was standing and he sounded dire, "Don't give up. You can't. I need you-"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

It woke her up like someone had fired a starting pistol just outside her bedroom door. She groaned as she rolled over and peeked at her alarm clock – it was almost two in the morning. She had almost gotten a full hour of sleep, and a dream she couldn't really make her mind up about for her trouble. She waited a full second, just wondering if she could get away with going back to sleep, pretending it hadn't woken her up. She felt like screaming, but she knew the sooner she just got up and went to the door, the sooner she could go back to bed. Odds were if she went back to sleep too quickly she's end up right back in that dream. And she was sure that she didn't want that.

_Knockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknock knockknockknockknockknock -_

"What?!" She yelled angrily as she flung the door open, "Mellie? What the hell are you doing here?"

And for the second time that evening, Olivia didn't even have to step aside before her guest walked into her home. However, for obvious reasons, Mellie practically breaking down her door at two in the morning, and just inviting herself in once the door was open was far more aggravating. Mellie looked around, like she was expecting to find something strange or out of place, and Olivia rolled her eyes. Whatever she was doing, or looking for, Olivia didn't like it at all.

"You want a cup of coffee too?" Olivia asked, not at all trying to be the hostess, taking an unapologetic rude tone.

"No, thank you," Mellie replied, completely missing that it wasn't a real offer, "I've just been with the lawyer."

"All night?" Olivia asked, giving in as she sat down on the couch.

"Fitz was quite a piece of work," Mellie told her – like she needed telling – as she took a seat across from her, "According to his wished, we're supposed to agree on his medical treatment given that he can't make decisions himself. In the event that we can't agree, what you say goes. Unless of course it involves pulling the plug on him – thank God we're not there – then it's your decision, and I'm not even supposed to talk to you about."

"Ok," Olivia said, not sure why this news required a two AM Visit.

"What I'm coming here to tell you, is that I'm giving up my two cents," She continued, and Olivia nodded – so someone had filled her in on his prognosis, "I found out something particularly interesting tonight. Divorce papers, that Fitz's private lawyer had had for three years all drawn up and ready to go. I guess he really did love you, that was a little while after you two started seeing each other, right? Anyway, bless his little heart, Fitz already signed and dated. So, all I had to do was sign them, and date them two weeks ago. Found the lawyer was willing to vouch for it, given a certain amount of money was exchanged. Now all I need is a statement for the public. Something that says we signed the papers amicably, and were waiting until after his birthday to announce it to the American people."

"You want me to lie for you. Cover up the fact that you're signing the divorce papers after he's been severely disabled."

"Olivia, this whole marriage was a lie. Right from the beginning."

She had a point there.

"Besides, this is what you and Fitz always wanted, right? No presidency, me out of the picture? It's a win all around."

Olivia very hesitantly agreed, knowing that if she didn't any sort of recovery for Fitz was going to be hell. Well, it was already going to be hell – but now it would be hell without Mellie occasionally prancing in to pretend she cared. Olivia had also gotten the very distinct feeling that if she didn't agree to this, then Mellie was going to make everything there on out eighteen to thirty time more difficult than it needed to be. And doing things like that was her specialty. Old Fitz would have been thrilled to see her go, and current Fitz got upset to the point where it was dangerous to his health whenever she crossed the doorway into his room. He wouldn't be missing her, and neither would anyone else.

"She's gone?" Quinn couldn't believe her ears as Olivia finished explaining the team's job for the day.

"She left last night," Olivia told them, "The press is going to realize that she's not there today, so we need this ASAP."

"But you will be – there I mean," Harrison said, and Olivia sighed.

"Wait – why would he have divorce papers just signed, and waiting in the eaves?" Quinn sounded suspicious.

"He did. It's not a forgery," Olivia told her, and they were all giving her quizzical looks.

"How do you know?" Harrison asked, and Abby looked over at Huck, who stared up at the ceiling instead.

**Three Years Ago: **

"Fitz?" Olivia asked as she answered the door to the hotel suite she had been staying in – the apartment she had fallen in love with wasn't quite ready for her.

"I needed to talk to you about this speech tomorrow," He said, but that wasn't nearly what he wanted to say.

He wanted to say something else entirely, but she could tell that he couldn't with the two secret service agents, that she would later learn were Tom and Hal, looming behind him. So, she opened the door up a little wider and he motioned to the agents to wait outside the door for him. He closed the door again behind himself, peeling off his jacket, slipping out a bottle of champagne that he had been hiding inside of it. He handed it to her as he threw the jacket onto the back of a chair.

"So really, what're you doing here?" She asked as he took the champagne back.

"You know what I'm doing here, Liv," He told her as he led her into the kitchenette, "I'm here to celebrate."

"Celebrate?" She was taken off guard, as he went into the cabinets to find suitable glasses, "Isn't that what the eight inaugural ball invitations I've received are for? Tomorrow night. After the inauguration."

"Oh my send off parties? No," He said, "I don't get why we're celebrating the fact that I'm essentially going to be imprisoned for the next four years – thanks for that, by the way. If you were a little bit less fantastic at your job, I wouldn't have to be sneaking over here."

"...Fitz...?"

"You really don't remember?" He paused as he set the glasses down on the counter top – he looked disappointed, "It's been a year."

"What?" She asked, as he popped open the champagne and started pouring it into the two glasses.

"It's been exactly one year, and some random assortment of hours and minutes since you walked down that aisle and told me off," He said with a little smile and she nodded.

"A year from when you fired me."

"A year from when I realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," He said, passing her her glass, "Livy, it's our anniversary. And that, is worth celebrating."

"With champagne," She commented, and he nodded as he tipped his glass against her's.

"With champagne," He said, much more convinced, "Cheers."

He drained his glass much faster than she did. She smiled a little, setting down her glass as he wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her close. She closed her eyes momentarily, taking in a deep breath, and a nice whiff – how did he always manage to smell so damn good? She was about to nuzzle into his chest, but instead his hand slipped up onto her face so that he could get an angle on her lips. She kissed him back as he led her off back into the direction of the little living room area. Right at the corner he reached down and picked her up, so that she was straddling him as he walked. He sat down on the couch, lips still moving at almost a viscous pace at that point.

"Wait," He said, as she started to pull away, settling herself on his lap.

"You have to go back soon, and tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow is the day you've convinced yourself that we have to stop," He said in that awful, pained voice that he had whenever they talked about what would happen once he was president – like he didn't believe her at all, "And tonight, is our anniversary, which means I was planning on spending the night, but will go whenever you kick me out. But that's not your surprise."

"I have a surprise?"

"Of sorts," He replied, "It's why I wasn't over here earlier – I had divorce papers drawn up, and I signed them. In four years, when my sentence has been served, all that has to happen is to get Mellie to sign the other side. The prenup handled pretty much everything, so it won't really change in four years, or ever. My dad was pretty good with that when he arranged the whole marriage to begin with."

"Baby..."

She wasn't sure she could believe her ears, or get her hopes up.

"Which means all that's left is for you to say that you'll wait for me," He said, with a little boyish smile, "That whatever happens in the next four years, you won't marry anyone else. So even if you stick to this ridiculous plan of shutting everything off tomorrow, or I end up screwing up and losing you – in four years, when I'm done, and I'm free you'll give me a real shot."

**Present Day: **

"Olivia, how do you know that?" Quinn repeated Harrison's question, "The first lady's forged..."

"I just know," Olivia told her, and Abby raised her eyebrows as Olivia turned and went to check the phone list in her office.

She walked in and sat down at her desk for a second, according to Cyrus Fitz wasn't awake yet – the tests the day before must have worn him out a little bit more than they had thought. Which meant that she could get some work done before going over to the hospital and doing it all on a laptop or something. She needed to figure out what the original line to the press was going to be, and it had to come out quick. If it came out after Fitz's mental status and health concerns were aired, there was no way around making Mellie seem like the cowardly, cold, unloving, treacherous person that she was. She was looking over a short little draft she had thought of right when she had woken up, planning on leaving it for them to revise.

"So, you and the President," Abby said, and Olivia looked up, just realizing that she had snuck in before the door closed, "That was really a thing. You two were in love."

"I have to get back to the hospital," Olivia said, not really giving her an answer, "Hold down the fort."


	4. This Isn't It

A/N: So, this is delayed from Friday, but that's why I gave you guys the update last time early. Love :) Enjoy :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Four: This Isn't It.

Fitz could only stay in the ICU so long, and eventually they just moved him into a private room. She had originally intended to try and get the divorce over with in as few news cycles as possible, but there were questions swirling around everywhere. Mostly they concerned Fitz's condition, which they still weren't all that keen to release. Olivia had plenty to keep herself busy, as Cyrus and the doctors were trying to talk to her about where Fitz would go after his stay at the hospital – he could only stay there so long too. They could keep him there as long as she wanted, but there was only a period of time where that was practical, and it was starting to get into the gray area. She hated him being there all the time anyway, just wasting away. And she didn't like the idea of him being in a nursing home, he was too young for that, right? The mental picture that it gave wasn't all that much better than the one of just having him in the hospital, either. She just had this mental picture of him lying there, not moving, slowly fading away. Even though the doctors had just decided that he was strong enough to sit in his wheel chair, that wasn't even all that much better.

So, when she walked into his room on Thursday night, after spending most of her day at work, she was happily surprised to find him still sitting in the wheel chair – staring out the window. She had been falling into a predictable routine, where she would stop by non the way to work – because he got confused and upset in the morning when he woke up – and then came back once she could consider herself done for the day. That's when she would sit with him, read, or try to provide some sort of break up in his day. And while she prayed that there was still a little piece of the old Fitz in there, she didn't know if it would be worse or better. The old Fitz would be bored shitless, and frustrated sitting there all day without anything to do. But at least he would be in there, so she kept praying, even if she felt guilty about it.

"Hi," She said, smiling kindly at him as she spun the wheel chair around, so that he could see her – there was a little flicker of a light in his eyes, "How was your day?"

"It was just as boring as usual," Cyrus answered for him from the far corner of the room, making her jump a little bit.

"I didn't realize you were here."

"Sorry," He said, getting up and going over to stand on the other side of Fitz's chair – Olivia slipped her hand inside of Fitz's - his grip had improved a little since he had first woken up, who cared if it was probably just a reflex, "The doctors were asking earlier if you made a decision about what we're doing next. They dropped off a couple of brochures – they look like nice places."

"I don't want him in a nursing home, Cy," Olivia sighed, and Cyrus raised his eyebrows.

"Olivia," Cyrus said, pulling the brochures out of his back pocket, a couple of a-list, top-notch places she'd already half looked into.

"I'm sure these places are great," Olivia said, tossing them aside, "Their lawns are kept, their facilities will be amazing – but they're just going to stick him in a bed, or maybe sometimes a chair. He needs more attention than that. He deserves a little more care than that."

"So, what're you going to do?" Cyrus asked – not arguing her point, Fitz was looking up at her, and she sat down – not wanting to tower over him.

"I've been trying to figure it out," Olivia told him, as she realized Fitz's mouth looked dry, "How was his swallow test today?"

"I don't think they did one today – at least not while I was here," Cyrus told her, and she nodded, "But yesterday's went fine, right?"

"Can you grab that water?" She asked, gesturing to the bottle on the side table, and Cyrus handed it to her.

She unscrewed the cap, and stood up again, cradling Fitz's head against her chest. She tipped his head back, so that when she poured the water into his mouth it would be easier for him to swallow. The last thing they needed was for him to choke on it, or end up with some of it in his lung.

"Ok," She told him as she very carefully poured it down his throat, "Easy. Slow."

"He can't understand you," Cyrus told her as she wiped a couple drops of water off of Fitz's chin.

"He might," Olivia said, expecting this kind of comment from Cy, "And if I can't – I'd still want to talk to him. How is he supposed to start talking again if everyone's only talking around him?"

"True," Cyrus said in a slightly apologetic tone as he sat back, "So what's your plan?"

"I don't know yet."

"Oh, c'mon - that's bull. Both of us – maybe all three of us – know that you never don't have a plan."

"I haven't -" Olivia broke off, she knew what she wanted to happen, "He's going to come home with me."

"Liv..." There was nothing but pity in his voice.

"Don't – Stop." Olivia told him, "Don't you dare get that tone - "

"Liv, no one expects you to..."

"That's what's going to happen," Olivia said, taking a deep breath – ignoring the sad look on Cyrus's face, "I'll set up the apartment, put him in the guest room. I can get a nurse to stay with him while I'm at work, and to help me out. See if Tom would mind helping me get him in and out of the wheel chair – get physical therapy over as much as possible – keep him moving."

"You can't - "

"I don't think that I can do it any other way, Cyrus," Olivia said solemnly, "This way I can keep a better watch on him, don't have to go out of my way to visit him, and he'll be watched properly. I can see to it. He can move that arm, maybe we can see about options with one of those chairs with a joystick thing. He might like to move around on his own – if he can manage it."

"Governor Levinson, in Florida, want me on his staff," Cyrus said, unable or unwilling to look at her or Fitz, "Called me a week ago. He's planning on running in the next election..."

"You're leaving too."

"Don't say it like that," Cyrus snapped, "I want to stay involved, and I want to make sure you've at least got a plan before I leave. I'm doing down in a couple of days. I'll come back, I'll check in. I'm not abandoning ship, I just – I can't sit here. I can't do this, I can't watch him just not recognize people. He's not Fitz, not anymore."

"You're wrong," Olivia told him.

"You want him to still be in there? You want him to be conscious of what's going on right now? You want to believe that he's trapped in there - "

"I have to," She said, knowing exactly how dumb and ridiculous it sounded, "It's ok. We'll be ok, Cyrus. It's my job anyway."

"But it's not your job," Cyrus told her, "It was cruel of him – after all he's said, and all he's done – to put this on you. It's not fair after how he left that you -"

"Nothing about this whole group that we're in has ever been fair," Olivia replied, her voice raised, and Cyrus took notice – so did Fitz, and she put her hand on his again as she lowered her voice, "He didn't want to be President, we did that. We went to _completely_ unnecessary lengths to to make sure that that happened. He wanted to step down last year, get his divorce and come away with me. But we didn't let him do that. I didn't let him. He referred to the Oval Office as his cell, and the White House as his prison, but I made him stay there. If I had just let him – if we hadn't done what we did – he would be fine. No one would have had a reason to put a bullet in his head. So no, it's not fair, and it's cruel, and it's horrible. But it's what he wanted, and for someone who claims to have loved him, I didn't ever listen to what he wanted, so we're doing this now. I'm doing this now."

"Sitting around that table, you were the only one who wasn't in it for yourself," Cyrus said, as Olivia was stroking the back of Fitz's hand so that he could relax a little bit more, "Not all of us are as strong as you, Liv... let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

He got up to leave, and she took a deep breath.

"Cy."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to need people, physical therapists, nurses, someone for Tom's days off that we can trust not to go telling the highest bidder that the President's former mistress is the one taking care of him."

"I'll take care of it before I leave."

**Three Years Ago: **

Olivia was sitting out on the back porch at her cabin at Camp David, where Fitz had decided that everyone was going to be spending Thanksgiving. It was nice, because the kids were home for the long weekend break from school, and Cyrus and James had agreed to come along as well. Which was why when she was asked to tag along, she could hardly have said 'no' – especially when Fitz had had Karen and Gerry call her to ask her to come along themselves. It was just plain mean spirited, so when she had gone to yell at him about it, he had thrown on the charm. 'Oh, Livy, don't you at least want to be together for Thanksgiving?' Well, it was all starting to sound like a crock of shit as she was sitting there, not wanting to watch Fitz play perfect family with Mellie and the kids.

"Are you going to come and watch us play?" Fitz asked, tossing a football up and catching it as he walked up onto her porch.

"Oh, I'm playing," Olivia said, standing up.

"You might want to change your shoes," He teased her, and she nodded as she headed into her little cabin, and he followed her in, closing the door carefully behind them, "Hey, are you ok?"

"I'm fine," She said, as she sat down on the foot of her bed to change her shoes, and he sat down next to her.

"Are you sure? You seemed kind of upset earlier," He pushed as he put his arm behind her.

"I just don't think it was a good idea for me to come along," She said as she tied her shoes, rather viciously.

"Well, cutting off the circulation to your foot isn't going to help," He replied, slipping off the bed and kneeling on the ground, tying her shoes for her, "I sort of figured that was what was bothering you. Mellie's gone, she left an hour ago. It's just you and me, the kids, Cy, and James now. All the president elect Camp David pictures have been taken, and she left."

"Well, Mr. President Elect," She said, "What are you planning on doing with the extra time?"

"Well, the kids go back on Friday," He said, finishing in tying her sneakers and coming up to kiss her quickly, "I'm not due back until Wednesday."

"Wild man," Olivia said, and Fitz smiled as he tucked the football into his arm, helping her up, "If I say, pretended to leave when Cy and James did..."

"You said it, not me," He said, handing her the football, "Does this mean I get to pretend to tackle you?"

"Who's playing with us?" She asked, and he took a breath.

"Gerry and Karen," He replied, and Olivia shrugged, "I want them to be used to you."

"They attack me when I walk through the door," Olivia said, "But why do you care?"

"So eventually..."

"C'mon Fitz," She said, tossing the ball at his chest, "Let's go."

"You don't wanna..."

"No, you've snuck in enough kisses," She said, leading him out of the room, then popped her head back in – where he was frozen on the spot, ball in both hands, "Unless of course the off chance you and Gerry beat Karen and I."

"Off chance?" Fitz said, raising an eyebrow as they were walking towards the field towards the center of the camp, "Because I was a pretty fantastic quarter back."

"...in high school. I could swim a five hundred in six minutes in high school – I couldn't do that now," She said, as he passed her the ball.

"Well, I'd like to see you try," He dropped his voice down low as they approached the kids, so that they couldn't hear.

"Where's Uncle Cy?" Olivia asked them teasingly as James walked over.

"Cy says he's too old," James told them, pulling a whistle out of his pocket, "I'm officiating. The kids say their dad cheats."

"I do not," Fitz smirked, and Olivia rolled her eyes as she gave Karen a little hug.

"Good call. Keeping the boys honest."

"Hey," Gerry said indignantly.

"Ok, keeping your dad honest," Olivia teased as Fitz pouted.

"Ok, let's play. Enough talk."

"Alright then," James said, sticking the whistle in his mouth, hands on his hips, "I don't know anything about sports."

"Wait until we've lined up," Fitz told him as he handed the ball to Karen, "And then blow the whistle to start the game."

"Hey," Gerry said, looking disgruntledly over at Karen.

"Girls get the ball first, Ger," Fitz said, ruffling his hair.

**Present Day:**

It took Olivia a week to get the apartment all set up for Fitz. True to her plan, she had set up the guest room all for Fitz, complete with movable bed, and anything else that he might need, including an extra cot just in case. She said it was in case the nurse had to spend the night, but really it was probably for her more often than not. She had a feeling she would be sleeping in there like she had at the hospital, watching his chest rise and fall until she fell asleep. Tom would be there ninety percent of the time, as per his contract, and the therapists that Cyrus had found for them before they left were amazing. They stopped by the hospital to check in on him before he went home to see what they were dealing with. All of the equipment they said they would need was now cluttering her living room. Though, it would beat having to form a motorcade to bring him to therapy four or five times a week.

"Hey, Tom," Olivia said, as she walked in from work late one Sunday.

Tom was sitting on the couch with the TV on, and Fitz was sitting in his chair – staring out the window in the corner.

"Hi, Fitz," She said, walking over to him, and spinning him around – fixing his hair softly, "Anything interesting going on out there?"

Fitz just sort of looked at her, and she nodded.

"Did he already have dinner?" She asked Tom as she headed over to talk to him, and Tom nodded.

"The nurse fed it to him just before she left," Tom replied, looking up from the game, and pausing it, "That was some really appetizing looking mashed up ravioli."

"He can chew, it doesn't have to be _mashed_ just small pieces," Olivia said, and Tom shrugged, "What're you watching?"

"Superbowl," He said, as Olivia sat down – and she gave him a quizzical look, "He didn't want to watch it. I even tried to get him onto the couch with me, but he wasn't having it."

"He -"

"He grunted, and gave me a death glare," Tom replied, and Olivia nodded.

"It's something."

"I guess," Tom replied as Olivia got back up and went over and put her hand on Fitz's shoulder.

"Hey, Fitz," She said, feeling slightly ridiculous – who even knew if he understood? "It's the Superbowl. Are you sure you don't want to watch? I'm going to bring you over..."

There was absolutely no change in his facial expression or the look in his eyes, so Olivia wheeled him over to the side of the couch between it and the chair facing the screen. She grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and wiped his lip for him, and sat back down between him and Tom. She tried to watch the game for a couple of minutes, then looked over at Fitz. He was set onto the screen, but he was dazed out, he wasn't paying attention. If he could pay attention to anything at all. She took a deep breath as she watched him. This couldn't be it, this couldn't be the rest of Fitz's life. He had to get better, and she was going to fight for him. If there was any chance that he was going to get any better, she was going to do it – no matter what it took.


	5. Quality of Life

A/N: Happy Friday all, hope everyone's as excited to see it as me... (Also, I should have Life Revisions updated soon – it's been a hell of a week) Anyway, enjoy lovelies :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Five: Quality of Life

Olivia tapped her toe against the tile floor of the hospital, safely tucked away inside of Fitz's exam room with him and Tom. The extra security and secret service agents that accompanied bringing Fitz anywhere where outside in the hall, and down around the corner – essentially just every where there was to go in the hospital. He was getting his stiches removed, and while they were there, the doctor wanted to get another MRI of Fitz's brain. The stitches coming out was something that she had both been looking forward to (because that meant he was healing) and dreading (because that was when she told the kids they could visit). Karen and Gerry had been clamoring to visit Fitz, but Mellie wouldn't let them come home from school for it – they were home now for some strange vacation, and she had told them that once his stitches were out, they were more than welcome. However, introducing Karen and Gerry to the current version of their father that evening was nothing compared to the anxiety she was having over Fitz's MRI. Physically seeing all that damage again – knowing whether he was getting at all better – or not.

"You're making him nervous," Tom said, removing her hadn from his shoulder, "Take a deep breath – It can't possibly be any worse than it is right now."

"It can," Olivia replied, and Tom shook his head slowly.

"Miss Pope, even if it's bad -"

"We don't give up."

"That's right."

There was a little pause in action, in which Olivia gave him a silent, little, grateful smile – which he returned very briefly. She took the suggested deep breath, and calmed her nerves as Fitz's hand went up. He had that – by now- overly familiar confused look, so she put her hand back on his shoulder as the nurse he had had during his coma walked into the room. Tom then took that as his cue to step out into the hallway with the rest of the security. It was only a matter of minutes before the doctor walked in, and took Fitz's stitches out without any sort of problem whatsoever. She stayed while they got him prepped and onto a gurney to go down to the MRI.

"I'll see you right after," Olivia told him as she walked with the bed until she had to turn to go into the waiting room.

She sat down in one of the least comfortable chairs she had ever sat in while her guard sat down across from her. Because apparently making all of Fitz's medical decisions meant that she was supposed to have an agent at all times. Olivia, of course, had put her foot down, saying that it was ok when she was taking him to the hospital or something – but not day to day. Not at home, she had Tom – and she trusted him more than pretty much anyone in the world at this point. Not at work, and not when she was going about by herself. But for Christ's sakes not while she was at work.

"Miss Pope," said the nurse as she walked back into the waiting room with a clipboard, "We're having a little trouble..."

He had been with them for all of ten minutes.

"What's going on?" Olivia jumped to her feet.

"Everything's ok. We're just having a little it of trouble keeping him still for the MRI," She said, and Olivia nodded, "He seems to be panicking a little bit. His secret service agent – Tom – seems to think that you might be able to calm him down."

"Ok," Olivia said, taking a breath as she allowed the nurse to lead her down the hall.

"Here you are," She said as she handed Olivia a smock, putting one on herself, "I'll be in there with you, it'll be fine. He just keeps moving his arms, and turning his head."

"Ok," Olivia said, trying to prepare herself as they walked in, "Fitz."

She was taken a little by surprise as she walked over to the side of where they had him laying down – and he turned his head to look at her. So he could hear her, and not only could he hear her, he could recognize her voice, too. She pulled over a chair and sat down, patting his hair, then stroking the side of his face as she could see him calming down. He took a deep brath, and she gave him a small assuring smile. Then, by the time she took his hand he was breathing evenly, and according to the monitor they had him hooked up to, his heart had returned to a normal pace.

"Fitz," She addressed him again, "You have to lay still. I'll be right here, then once you're done we can go home. You just have to stay still for a couple of minutes."

The nurse directed Olivia to a section of the room where it would be safe to stand, and where Fitz could see her, barely. She really couldn't find a fiber in her being that blamed Fitz for being scared, or not liking it. She could want someone she at least halfway recognized at least in the room while it was happening. She sat back and watched, until they were done. She had taken the morning off, which had confused her team greatly. She had been acting strangely since he had been shot, and she hadn't given them much of an explanation for it. Taking mornings off, trying to leave just after the six o clock news, trying to work from home on the weekends. They were all extraordinarily thrown off, except maybe Huck. Even Abby hadn't seemed to guess that with the flight of the First Lady, Olivia was Fitz's primary caregiver. Huck seemed to know – possibly only because he was Huck – he may have deduced that that was what was going on.

"How are we doing?" She asked as she walked into the office, and Abby, Harrison, and Quinn looked up from the table.

"Nice of you to show up," Quinn muttered under her breath, Abby rolled her eyes.

"Are you two done?" Olivia asked as she set her bag down, she did not have the patients to deal with them and Fitz, "How are we doing on on Senator Browning's case? We have maybe two more hours – tops – before the major news outlets pick this thing up."

"Browning was picked up for prostitution this morning," Harrison said as Huck came into the room with his laptop, "His wife wasn't willing to pick him up from jail - "

"Big surprises there," Abby commented.

"- We picked him up as quickly as we could," Harrison finished his sentence.

"It's only a matter of time before this hits the fan," Olivia told them all, crossing her arms as she looked up at the window-board, "We need an apology, and we need it to get to the news stations _before_ they start reporting. I want this handles as quickly as possible, so – Quinn, I want you down by the police station. Once they start showing up, I want to know what the reporters are gossiping about. Because what they think..."

"...Is what everyone else is going to think."

Quinn left.

"Abby, I want you by the house – and please, please, don't say _anything_ to anyone," Olivia told her.

"Got it," Abby nodded as she grabbed her coat and headed out the door.

"Harrison," Olivia rounded on him.

"Are you ok, Liv?" Harrison asked, and she gave him a bracing smile.

"I'm fine," She lied, and Harrison nodded, "How about you?"

"Weirded out, honestly," Harrison said, and she blinked, "We all are – what's going on with you, Liv?"

"Nothing," Olivia took a breath, "I need you to work with Browning on the apology."

"Ok," Harrison said, taking his mission like a champ and heading back into his office, where Browning was sitting.

Olivia looked over to Huck for a second, allowing him to see how tired she was. It was like a little window, and then she shut it, turning to go into her own office. Huck followed her in, and shut the door behind himself. She knew he was there, but sat behind her desk organizing everything that had been dropped onto her desk in the past week. He waited for her to be done like a soldier, and she looked up at him.

He waited a half a second.

"How is he?"

"He's moving his head, moving his arms, He can move his feet occasionally. Therapy's doing wonders," Olivia said, and Huck nodded, "I think he's still in there."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm surviving."

"You need a break."

"I get breaks."

"You come to work," Huck said, simply, "Work is not a break."

"Work keeps me busy, Keeps me from thinking about him. Keeps me from worrying that I'm not there."

"You're running yourself thin."

She took a deep breath. She knew that.

**Three Years Ago: **

Olivia climbed the stairs up to Cyrus' office from her own with a vengeance, because the elevator always took way too long. She was always concerned as to why they would even have an elevator in the White House, because it didn't make any sense. No one, except for maybe Fitz on a good day, ever had time to use it. But, she guessed that FDR had appreciated them during his time as President. She walked into Cyrus's office and set Fitz's speech for a rally the next night down on his desk. Cyrus hadn't actually been in there, which was good – because she didn't have time to stop and make polite small talk. She had already had to very cleverly tell Fitz that their 'date' in the rose garden couldn't happen tonight. She had way too much to do, and she was already going to be in her office until at least two the next morning.

"Livy?" Fitz slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him – never mind getting back to her office within a couple minutes.

"I don't have time, Fitz," She said, apologetically, "I have a speech – your speech – to finish once I get Cyrus's notes. And I have three marines in trouble at Norfolk."

"Figures, they're marines -" Fitz quipped.

"Oh, quiet, Navy Boy," Olivia said, and he smiled lightly, "Then I have to talk with the governor about tomorrow night, and make sure everything's all set – What?"

"You canceled on me," He pouted, and she sighed heavily.

"Fitz."

"Cy doesn't have a camera in his office," Fitz said, putting his hands low on her hips, pulling her in closer to himself – kissing her quickly, "But in all serious – I'm not letting you out of tonight. You've been working way too hard, Livy. As your boyfri-"

"As my boss I think you need me more," Olivia replied, and Fitz made a face, she never let him finish the word.

"Your running yourself thin," Fitz told her, stroking down her arm softly, "So either you're spending a couple of hours with me out in the rose garden for dinner, or you're being escorted off the premises by Tom and Hal at six, and not allowed back until the morning."

"Fitz-"

"Your choice," Fitz said innocently, and she made an angry face at him,"All work and no breaks? You're going to go insane. I love you, which means I love all of you. Your brain included, and that'll be no good to anyone if you over stress it. So, it's your choice."

"Fine," She replied, "We can meet in the rose garden from six to eight, but then I have to get back to work."

"Then we can go over the speech together," Fitz said, and Olivia raised her eyebrows.

"I thought we'd go over that over dinner."

"Then it wouldn't be a break."

"Fitz."

"Livy."

"Seriously."

"Do I need to remind you of your other, less fun option?"

"Why would you say that option wasn't as much fun? I can go home, have a big glass of wine... read a book."

"But then you don't get to kiss me."

"Wow," Olivia said, "Who says I want to?"

He gave her a knowing look.

"Ok, but what's stopping me doing that now?"

"Nope," He said, pulling his head up and staring at the ceiling, "You'll have to wait until later."

"You're mean when I try to break dates."

"It's not the date," He said, rolling his eyes, "I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to be."

"But I am," He said, leaning down and kissing her – deliberately going back on what he had just said, "You work yourself too hard. I just want you to relax for a couple of minutes. An hour tops."

"Fine, I will meet you in the rose garden at six," She said, leaning up and kissing him quickly, "You weren't really going to have Tom and Hal remove me?"

"No," Fitz took a deep breath, "You might've hurt them."

**Present Day: **

"Olivia?" Huck was still standing in front of her desk.

"Yes, Huck?" She replied, and he gave her a little look, "I'm fine. I promise."

Huck opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by the sound of her phone going off on the top of her desk. She looked down at her phone screen, and it read 'James Madison' so she nodded over towards the door, politely asking Huck to let her answer the call in private. She had put the hospital's number, and more specifically Fitz's doctor's number into her cell phone so that she would be able to call it within a second's notice – while rushing Fitz in – if necessary. Of course, Tom and Daniel, who took over when Tom was off, had all of his numbers programed into their work cellphones, she still liked having them herself. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what this phone call might be, and then answered it.

"Olivia Pope," She answered, desperately trying not to sound as nervous or upset as she was.

"Hi, Miss Pope. This is Dr. Polk from James Madison," He said, and Olivia sank down into her chair, "Do you have a minute to talk about the cans we took this morning?"

"Yes," Olivia told him as Huck closed the door behind himself, shutting her into her office alone,"I'm kind of surprised to be getting a call so quickly."

"Well the President does take priority," He said casually, "But we were very pleasantly surprised by the state of the President's scans, so I wanted to call you right away. I know how you are. His brain seems to have begun a very primitive process of of starting to heal over the damage. Which is a very good sign at this stage of his recovery. If he continues to progress along this sort of path, we may be able to go in and fix some of the problem areas with surgery."

"An operation?" Olivia asked, surprised that this would be a thought of a way of action, "Opening up his brain again?"

"It's risky, and we won't even know if we can do it for another couple of months," Dr. Polk shrugged her concerns off, "In the mean time, I'm going to put a call in for his therapies to come in every day."

"Every day?" Oliva asked, "Won't that be a little bit too much? He gets tired easily."

"His brain is trying to remap itself," Dr. Polk told her, "And we don't know to what extent it'll be possible – but his body is fighting this. Keeping him moving every day should help."

"Alright," Olivia said, taking a deep breath, "You have the information for the physical therapist?"

"I do," He replied, then continued on, "He has excellent motion in his arms and neck."

"He's had the arm movements," Olivia nodded, "Thank you for calling me right away."

The fact that she had shown up later – even an announced later – and gone home at five wasn't at all lost on the team. She wanted to be able to explain, but until Huck's private assignment was completed, or the FBI and CIA (and whoever else was working on it) found the person who had hired Becky to shoot Fitz, it was good that no one really knew where he was. Where he was was top secret information, no one even in the White House knew. It was just her, the secret service, highest arches of FBI/CIA, Cyrus, the kids, and by proxy Mellie. Thirteen year old Gerry and sixteen year old Karen had been specifically no one could know where their father was, for his own safety. They were usually good about keeping their mouths shut when they needed to. Well, no one expected Gerry to say anything – ever, and Karen was so protective of her father that it was in fact, impressive.

"Oh good," She said, smiling at Fitz as she walked into the apartment – he was sitting in his wheel chair, in a sweater and jeans, "You're all ready for Karen and Gerry."

"We figured we'd get him ready before you got home," Natalie, his day nurse, told her as Olivia fixed his hair over his scar to hide it better.

"Thank you."

"He hasn't had dinner yet, and he wouldn't eat his lunch," The nurse told her, "I thin kthe trip to the hospital upset him a little more than it did last time."

"Ok, I'll see if I can get him to eat something before the kids show up," Olivia said as she let her hand fall onto his shoulder – Natalie was getting ready to go.

"How did his MRI go this morning?" She asked, and Olivia paused – she had started pushing Fitz towards the kitchen.

"Good," Olivia said passively, unable to let herself get excited.

"Alright," Natalie said, with a little smile as she saw herself out, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Ok, Fitz," Olivia said, Tom sitting at the Kitchen table while she wheeled Fitz over towards the fridge, "What do you want? Something quick. A yogurt maybe?"

"He likes the orange one," Tom fell into his common habit of answering for him.

"I though you thought he couldn't tell, or know-"

"He eats it faster," Tom replied simply, and Olivia nodded, "And it had a lot of calcium, might help."

"That's the real answer," She chuckled a little as she pulled out a yogurt cup, "We're already getting him plenty of calcium, and protein. And that weird shake thing the doctor recommended."

She pulled the stool out from the island and sat down to feed it to him. Either he was getting better at being spoon fed, or she was getting better at feeding it to him. She preferred to believe the first one. When they had first gotten him home, meals always ended up in him needing a bath, and a change of clothes. And that was with a bib, and a towel on hand. Now, once he was finished eating, all he needed was a quick wet paper towel, just in case it was uncomfortable for him or there was something that she couldn't see. She kissed his forehead lightly, and made sure that his hair was covering his scar as much as possible as she wheeled him back out into the living room. She barely got him into the room before there was knocking on the door, and Tom took her cue to open it up. The kids had been told about their father's permission, like when Karen called her almost every day to check in on him. Once it was clear it was going to be a while, she had slowly stopped sugar-coating it. She watched as they, almost frightened, edged into the apartment, their agents behind them.

"Hey, guys," She said, walking to meet them just before they got fully into the living room – giving them each a hug.

"Hey, Liv," Karen said, giving her a quick smile.

"Your mom didn't tell me why you guys were home," Olivia said, her arm still around Gerry.

"Oh," Karen said, taking a deep breath, "She had the baby last night. His name's Teddy."

"She did?" Olivia had to admit she hadn't really had the time to watch the news lately, never mind the fact that it wasn't exactly something the team would have told her.

"She hasn't told anyone yet," Karen filled in for her, and Olivia nodded, "She told us not to talk about it."

"C'mon, come see your dad," Olivia said, leading them the rest of the way into the room.

"Can we hug him?" Karen asked cautiously, and Olivia nodded.

"Just be careful, ok?" Olivia told them, and Karen nearly ran to be first, "We try to be low-key."

"Ok," Gerry said quietly, waiting for his sister to be done, and then going in for a hug.

Olivia probably should have been watching the kids, but really she was watching Fitz. Watching his eyes to try and see if she could tell if he recognized them or not. She had assumed that he would, and he seemed to. He had been getting better with that sort of thing in the past couple weeks. He had hardly given Tom a hard time, and he seemed to be much more obviously recognizing her, case in point with him recognizing just her voice earlier at the hospital. That combined with the previous fact that those kids, and her, were pretty much his entire life before he got shot that it looked like he almost didn't recognize them. She sat there, encouraging the kids to tell him all about school, and what they were doing. How Karen was doing in her dance classes, and telling her that she could bring Fitz to it. How Gerry was doing in his classes, his quite honorable report card. He sat there subdued, gazing in and out. It was weird, he hadn't been doing that with direct communication going on in a week. When it started to get late, and Olivia told them that it was time to go, getting up and leading them, with a snack each from the kitchen, to the door to leave.

"Can we come back and visit him again before we leave on Saturday?" Gerry asked, and Olivia took a deep breath.

"Of course you can," She said, giving them each a hug again as the door opened up and they headed out with their agents, "Tell your mom to give me a call in the morning, ok?"

Olivia took a deep breath as the door shut behind the kids. It had been hard enough to sit there while they were there, how the hell was she going to get through watching Fitz meet Teddy? She didn't even want to do it, her brain was telling her it was an awful idea, that it wouldn't matter while her heart was telling her that he deserved to hold – to the best of his ability – or at least meet his son. She took another breath and turned around to head back to the living room, to get Fitz ready for bed, and she was unlocking the wheels on his chair, when she heard a noise the startled her slightly. Tom looking on from the chair that he frequented.

"Fitz?"

Olivia knew her face was probably the most confused it had been yet as she walked around and squatted down in front of him. She tried to hide it a little as she looked up into his face, only then realizing that he was crying.

"Oh my God," Tom said.


	6. Exertion of Energy

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Six: Exertion of Energy

It had taken Olivia a significant amount of time to calm him down that night, which only helped her theory that he might, in fact, still be in there. Though, as she sat on the edge of his wheel chair, cradling his head into her breast, she couldn't help but wonder if that was really what was best. Fitz had always been a strong, 'if I can't do it myself, I'm just not going to bother' type of guy and the doctors had told her over and over they weren't sure how much he was going to be able to recover. They didn't know if he would be able so speak, or fully regain movement above the legs. He had been doing well with Physical therapy to his legs – he still had the basic reactions, but one was slower than the other. There was just so much that they didn't know, and then there was always the possibility that they could all wake up the next day, and any progress could be gone. They just didn't know enough about his long term recovery yet. And, if old Fitz, her Fitz, was actually in there – she could only imagine the pain and depression he was dealing with. So, she comforted him until he stopped crying, and then rolled out the cot to stay in his room with him for the night. Though, it hadn't been planned. She had just fallen asleep.

It wasn't until the morning when she woke up that she realized what had happened. Fitz, who had had quite the day the day before, was still asleep – and she expected him to remain sleeping for the majority of the morning. She stretched as she got up, nodding to Tom who had apparently been coming in to wake her up for work. He backed out of the room again she went over to the side of Fitz's bed, leaning over him and kissing his forehead. She just wished that she could do more, be more – wave a magic wand and make him just wake up, and be all better. Or even that she could stay for his therapy appointments in the afternoon, maybe get him to Somehow, it took another deep breath and somehow way more effort than she was used to exerting while walking to get out of the room and off into the shower to get ready for work.

"You'll be back early, yes?" Tom asked her, and she furrowed her brow as she hooked her bag onto her arm, " If you can run home – I think you'll really like what this physical therapist gets him to do…"

"I'll see if I can, Tom," Olivia said, pausing with the door open, "When did you start getting optimistic about anything?"

"You really think I'm as emotionless as I seem?" Tom replied quickly, and Olivia chuckled.

"No," She said, with a little smile, "I'll see you later, Tom. Make sure the nurse at least tries to get him up and dressed before noon, ok? We can't let his diet get too screwed up."

"Will do," Tom nearly saluted her, and she was finally out the door.

It was a fleeting thought in almost the back corner of her head as she walked out of her building that leaving was going to be the worst, most difficult part of her day. The last thing that she had wanted to do that morning was to leave Fitz, particularly with how he had been the night before, and how long a day he had had. In the moment, she wanted to be a stay at home caregiver – for the second neglecting the thought that work was her only escape from being cooped up in the house with the secret service all day – which she remembered quite quickly. She was just starting to think up ways to tap into whatever of Fitz's consciousness remained when her phone started to ring, and she was pulling out of her parking spot and heading for the road. Mellie. She had forgotten in the drama of the night before that she had requested this call.

"Hello," Olivia answered the phone.

"Olivia. You sound busy should I call back later?"

"No, it's ok."

"Well, I have to admit I was surprised when the kids came home last night and told me that you wanted me to give you a call," Olivia had known Mellie long enough to recognize that fake friendly charm, "So, how's Fitz?"

Did she really think she was getting an update? If she wanted to know how Fitz was, than she could ask the kids. Olivia wasn't going to get into any more detail than they would give her.

"He's doing about the same," Olivia replied, "I just wanted to touch base with you because the kids mentioned that you had the baby. I was wondering if at what point maybe – "

"Let me save you some heartache there, Olivia," Mellie's tone swung into business, "Teddy is doing just fine, but he won't be going to visit Fitz. I'm cold, and villainous in just about everyone's book, but I'm not going to let – It's not his baby, Liv. I was already pregnant, that's why I was so ready to walk away when that whole Amanda Tanner thing went down. Then I thought I could hide it –"

Olivia hung up the phone as she pulled into her usual spot near work, and she had officially gone from a tough day to mood she knew she wasn't going to be able to kick until she got home. And even then, it would be because she had to, not because she was feeling at all better – but because she couldn't show emotion like that. She couldn't be angry, or have a bad day, or even be the least bit on edge. Fitz needed her. He needed her to be calm, cool, and collected – and he needed for her to have a plan, always. So for now, the plan was to ignore this child's existence, which was going to be harder than she thought as she walked into her office, and the birth announcement was all over the news. She took a deep breath, texted Tom to keep it off the TV at home, and prayed that in all the things that Fitz had forgotten, or failed to recognize that this would be one of them. For the first time since Mellie had left, Olivia had a twinge of it all being so unfair. Why – if Fitz ever recovered enough to know to ask – was she the one that was going to have to explain it to him? That should have to be Mellie. If that witch owed him anything, it was that.

"Olivia," Huck said as he edged into her office, closing the door behind himself, "You wanted an update on the special project you had me running?"

"Yeah, sit down," Olivia told him, and he nodded politely.

"I'd rather stand."

"Ok, go ahead, Huck," Olivia sighed, giving him her full attention, and trying not to seem too aggravated.

"I'm running through all of the groups close to him now," Huck went into reporting mode – he kind of reminded her of a fourth grader giving a book report, "I hacked in, and read through all the threats that were out on him and the first family at the time, and there's nothing credible. Which makes it probably a political, inside job. Usually when it's the guy who lives in his mother's basement, he actually does the shooting. So, I'm working on running people closest to him first, and then going from there."

"Any leads?," Olivia said, and he shook his head.

"You, Cyrus Beene, the former first lady, and the cabinet are all clear," Huck told her with a curt little nod.

"Thank you, Huck."

"Is there anything else that you want me to look into?" Huck asked, and Olivia shook her head.

"You're doing enough, thanks," She said, "Who does the FBI think that it is?"

"They have a couple of thoughts," Huck said, and Olivia nodded, "Mostly foreign leaders. None of them are really that good."

"So what're the odds that you're the one who solves it?"

"I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at what I do," Huck said, and Olivia nodded.

"Be careful. Whoever did this is dangerous, and I won't lose both of you-"

"I always am," Huck replied, taking a deep breath, "It's been two months since the shooting – this is when whoever it is thinks that they're going to get away with it. They're starting to relax, they're starting to get sloppy."

"Huck?"

"Mhmmm?"

"We're not going to find out who did this, are we?"

"I will. It just might take a lot longer than we might like – but I will find 'em. It's personal."

Olivia went through the rest of her day attempting not to think about her conversation with Mellie, or even Fitz in the most general of terms. Huck was right when he had said that she needed a break, as awful as it sounded – but Tom seemed to think so too. She hardly got a text message from him the entire day, which was strange, because usually he was shooting her updates, or telling her about something that had happened. He had been told to do so from the beginning. She had told him that he was going to be her eyes and ears with the therapists and the nurses coming in and out of the apartment. Maybe she would take a mini vacation, once Fitz was starting to plateau in his advancements. Maybe a night out of the apartment, to a restaurant where she could just sit by herself and eat food she hadn't cooked, and just – be. But that would have to be after Fitz was starting to slow – and she couldn't think about that. She couldn't be rooting for him to stop short of what he was, right?

When they finished up for the day early, earlier than when they usually did – she almost thought about stopping for coffee. Sitting down in the coffee shop and having a scone, have five minutes where no one was asking her any questions, and she wasn't expected to be anyone else's strength. Just five minutes where, at least she could trick herself into thinking, she was on her own. That she had no one to answer to, no one to take care of – that she could just be for a simple five minutes. Of course, this was ridiculous. She had to get home because as she was leaving was when Tom decided to send her a note.

'_I really think you'd like to see him with the therapist.'_

She didn't bother responding, she would be home before he even checked for an answer. Even if she did take the long way home, and sat in the car for an extra minute just to sit there in silence.

**Three Years Ago:**

She had done it. She had finally done it, and she was going to be free. She had just walked right into his office and set her resignation papers down right in the middle of his desk. Her office had already been packed up and put into her car, her cell phone changed. She was free – other than sending investigative agents to look into her, she was free. He couldn't get to her, and she didn't want him to. Well, eventually – but not right now. She was hurt, and she was exhausted, and all she wanted was to be able to have a little bit of normal, a little bit of a piece of what normal would be like. That was all she wanted, and she would never get that with Fitz. She was coming to understand that, because even with all of his promises about being together eventually – he was still going to be the former president of the United States. He, no matter how long they waited, was still going to be the former president of the United States who left his wife to be with another woman, one who had previously worked for him. It was going to be a scandal no matter how it happened.

"Olivia?" Huck asked as she walked into her apartment, and set her bag down.

"Hey, Huck," She replied, going straight for her wine rack, avoiding the dusty bottle Fitz had sent her, and going for the cheapest.

She didn't care about the taste right then.

"What happened?" Huck asked innocently, his homeless shaggy hair gone and his beard shaved – he looked much better than she had ever remembered, "You're drinking wine out of the bottle, something happened."

"You want one?" She asked, pulling the brim of the bottle from her lips and grabbing another to hand to him – he shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm good," Huck said, sitting down at the island, watching her drink.

She smiled as she put the bottle down with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Ok, Huck," Olivia took a deep breath, "We're starting a new leaf – the two of us. With my contacts, and Public relations experience and your – skills we could do a lot of good."

"Good?" Huck asked – clearly put off by her word choice, "With my -?"

"I came to Washington to do good," Olivia took a deep breath, "I want to help people. We can do that, together – right?"

"This mean you're done at the White House?" Huck asked her, and she took another swig from her wine bottle, then nodded before she swallowed, "I thought you loved him."

"I do," She said sadly, as her cell phone rang on the table – a White House line.

"He needs you."

"He doesn't. Not now," Olivia replied, reaching over and shutting off her phone, "But when he does, I'll be there."

"Ok," Huck said softly, the kind of tone that made the hair on her arm stand on end – but she knew he wouldn't hurt her – that he wasn't dangerous, to her.

"I'm going to call Stephen, get in touch with Abby and Harrison," Olivia said, taking another sip, then putting the whole bottle into the fridge, like she was storing a juice box for later, "Everything's going to be ok."

She could feel the worry and the deep, splintering heartbreak starting to wash over her shoulders. She was going to be perfectly fine. She was going to get this business together, she was going to help people out of awful situations and give them a new start, and better one. She was going to make the world a better place, and she was going to do it with her friends. Fitz would be fine without her, better even, and any scent of a trail that Mellie was on would be shattered, right? Their plan to be together in the end would be ruined if Mellie knew now. It had to be after he left the White House, four years, and then they could be together. Just like they had said. She just couldn't be hanging around for those years – it was too painful. She could feel it every day, like a weight overhead waiting to drop.

**Present Day:**

She could see why Tom had wanted to her to get home to see and help out with Fitz's therapy appointment. Seeing him during the day as opposed to in the morning before work, or when he was exhausted in the evening just sitting in front of the television drooling – it was different. His eyes seemed brighter, and he was trying. She could see it in him, and there was no doubt that there was something – maybe it was old Fitz – maybe it was a new Fitz – but it was something. The therapist moved his wrist, and he moved the other one before he could get to it.

"See, now he's just showing off because you're here," Tom gave her a little smile as the therapist was stretching out his legs.

"When did this start happening?" Olivia asked him, and he shrugged.

"Slowly. About a week ago," He said, "I just figured that he was starting to get the routine down, but after last night…"

She was starting to feel a little bit lighter. There was still no telling what Fitz's mental status or capacity was, but this was looking good. Her hopes were up, high before she could even realized they had left the floor. Mellie's phone call felt like a lifetime ago, and it was almost like she could see a little light on at the end of the tunnel. By the time she realized she needed to bring herself down again, that she couldn't be so optimistic because if she was wrong – she was wrong. She had to convince herself of it, and even if she was right – which she wasn't – she still wouldn't be the old Fitz. It was like the doctor's said, he might improve a little bit, but it would be impossible for him to recover fully. She took a deep breath, smiled, was proud – but she couldn't do it. She headed into her room after a couple of minutes.

It did, however, give her a boost. The next month or so went by rather quickly. The kids, thanks to Mellie, didn't get the chance to come by again. Apparently, on the Saturday that they left it suddenly became much more important that they were seen with her and the baby out in the park supporting some sort of cause for gun control. Where she gave a little 'candid' (nothing was ever candid with Mellie) speech about Fitz's condition. Or so the last time she checked in on him, and from what the kids had undoubtedly told her. So that was Mellie's angle, to get back into politics. She was going to use Fitz, again. Well, if that was the case – she wasn't going to let her actually use him at all. He was not going to be disturbed and pulled out of the apartment for something like that. Not when he was improving, anyway. There was no way she was going to waste any of his little energy on something like that.

"G'evening, Tom," Olivia said as she walked through the door, Fitz was sitting in his wheel chair, as per usual, "He still won't let you take him out of that when I'm not here?"

"Decidedly not," Tom replied, and Olivia nodded as she headed into the living room, "He already ate dinner."

"Hey, Fitz," Olivia walked over and sat down in the chair across from where Tom had him – he looked over at her, "How was your day? Not too stressful? Tom told me you weren't all that cooperative with therapy today. It's ok – you're probably tired, huh?"

He raised his hand, and she went over and took it.

"Ok," She told him, using her other hand to wipe across his forehead really quick, "Let's get you all cleaned up, ok?"

"Bath time?" Tom asked, walking into the room to help out – usually it was his job to lift Fitz out of the chair and into the bathtub.

"I think I got it, Tom," Olivia replied as she took the break on the back of the chair to 'off' and started carting him off to the bathroom, "He's so tired, I'll just wash him up with a cloth for tonight. Just make sure the nurse knows in the morning…"

"No problem," Tom said, and Olivia nodded as she opened the door to the bathroom.

It was small, and they had just been able to rig it so that they could fit his hair into it, shut the door, and still have a little bit of wiggle room. She could see him starting to doze, so she went for a washcloth and a little bit of cool water to get his face first. That way, hopefully, by the time she was done the amount that the cloth had woken him up would have dissipated. As always, as soon as it hit his skin he sort of jumped a little bit, and she ran her hand down the side of his face and jaw to calm him, which worked. She unzipped his sweater, tossing into the dirty laundry, then went for his undershirt. He had worn an undershirt under everything, and she had just continued it, figuring that if it made him comfier – it was worth washing the extra dozen or so white t-shirts.

She went to take it off of him, and his hand caught onto the bottom hem. She gave it a minute's pause, but then he started tugging on it. He lifted it with her as far up as his arm would go – which wasn't at all as high as it needed to. She tossed the shirt away, and went to put a little soap on the cloth. She already had her hand on his cheek by the time she pressed the towel into his chest, careful to keep him calm. He had never done it with her, but according to Tom he had kicked tried to spin out of his chair when he got too upset. Of course, she was also trying to avoid that to the best of her ability. She went around and did his back, then washed off the soap, and dried with another towel. He was looking up at her as she went around to get his front.

There was a whisper, and she paused, looking at him.

There it was again, like a breath.

"_Liv_."

* * *

A/N: I finished the chapter early, so I figured I'd share early. Covered a significant amount of time here, but there's only so much Olivia says '…..' Fitz blinks, I can do…. Hope you all enjoyed it, and if so leave me a little note :)


	7. Love

A/N: Screw it. Life Revisions will be updated eventually, but this one I just can't ignore… I had to get this one out, and while I was doing that I thought you guys might appreciate it going right up and not me sitting on it for a week…. Enjoy all :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Seven: Love

Olivia stared blankly at him for a full minute, not really sure of what she had just heard. It had been a burst of air, a sigh, he had been sighing. Her mind was playing an incredibly cruel joke on her, her emotions were a mess, and there was no way that he had said anything at all – never mind what she had thought she heard. This was a marathon, not a sprint. If she stopped for water, if she took that break, it wouldn't be ok. There was no way she was going to be able to finish the race with him if she let herself believe that he had just said that. She took a deep breath, a sharp one, until she could get it together – together enough to finish washing him up and getting him out. She let a very confused Tom bring him to his room and put him into bed while she disappeared into her bed – the door shut tight.

"Miss Pope?" Tom was outside her door – it made sense, she usually read to Fitz until he fell asleep, or talked to him like his therapists had told her to do, "Miss Pope – are you ok? What – Did – Did something happen? But are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Tom. I'm just tired."

And upset. But, he seemed to then take the cue to leave her alone as she could feel warm tears begin to stain her cheek. She pressed her face into her pillow and just laid there – letting them fall until the damp cloth of her pillow started to adhere to her face. She sat up and reached over for her box of tissues, realizing as she held the ox in her hand that she had finished them off the night before. She tossed the box unceremoniously into her trash can, and went to her closet where she had stashed a few boxes for this sort of situation. She snatched one of them and went back onto her bed, pulling the sheets and the blankets up all around her.

What the hell had happened to her? Why and how had she been turned into this person? Most importantly, where the fuck was Fitz? Wasn't he supposed to be there? She wasn't supposed to be alone. He was to be there with her – that was the plan, right? He had promised her – it was going to be just them, riding off into the sunset together. She needed him, and she needed him to be _him. -_Shit.

She wiped the rest of her tears off of her face, and got up. Her room was dark, she had never even bothered to turn the light on when she walked in. She edged out of the door and into the hallway, and realized that she had been in her room much longer than she had expected to have been. The whole apartment was dark, and she could hear the now familiar sound of Tom snoring on the couch. She didn't mind him sleeping at night – she was pretty sure the secret service wouldn't like it, but who the hell cared? No one knew where Fitz, the whole apartment was wired and the slightest movement coming into the apartment at night would set off an alarm. At which time, Tom would be awake because everyone on the block would be awake. She edged around him, he was sort of like a watch dog – she couldn't count on one hand how many times she had accidentally woken him up going to the kitchen in the middle of the night. She tried to stay as silently as she could be as she walked into Fitz's room – where he was sleeping sound.

She took a deep breath, wishing that she had stopped for some alcohol on the way to his room. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes – this was a dream. This was a one-time thing that she had no control over, and that she would pretend never happened in the morning. She sighed as she walked around to the side of his bed and crawled up onto the mattress next to him. She picked up his arm slowly, and put it around her as she set her head down onto his chest. She could hear hi heart beating under her ear. It was slow, and steady, and calm. It hadn't changed. There was nothing about the way that his heart was beating that was different from the way it was before he had been shot. It was comforting, lying there with him. She could feel his arm pulling her closer, like a child with a teddy bear, while he slept. Maybe this was too hard. Maybe Cyrus was right.

Maybe she should get him into a nursing home, or a rehab center. They would keep a good eye on him, and she could visit whenever she wanted to. It would be easier than working with him day in and day out – not having a break. She turned her head, and looked up – realizing only then that his eyes were open. She shuttered, and panicked momentarily, and him sigh. It sounded like 'hi' but now she must be just hearing things. Even if he was going to tell someone, who would he tell? He couldn't talk, and she calmed herself as quickly as she had begun to panic. She simply put her head back down, so that she didn't have to see that he was watching her. She couldn't give up on him, but maybe it wouldn't be that way. It didn't have to be. She looked back up, and he had fallen back to sleep. She couldn't. Leaving him in any sort of place like that would break her.

"Miss Pope," She woke up with a jolt and saw Tom in Fitz's doorway.

Her heart sank, she had fallen asleep with her head on Fitz's chest, with his arm around her. She blinked, realizing that Tom wasn't looking away, he wasn't perturbed by it. Was that sympathy in his eyes?

"What is it, Tom?" She asked, slipping off the bed, and straightening herself out.

"Your alarm is going off in your room, Miss Pope," He told her, "It's time for you to get up and get ready for work."

"Thank you, Tom."

"No problem," He gave her a faint smile and turned to leave the room.

She looked down at Fitz, and he was watching her, upset. She took a deep breath, and he opened his mouth – she got ready to put the bed up. Sometimes when he first woke up he would have little coughing fits, trying to clear his throat out – those had been there before the incident, but they were definitely more common now that he was bed and wheel chair ridden. Usually, when he opened up his mouth like that in the morning, it was for that and she grabbed the box of tissues from his nightstand to help him out when something else happened. Another sigh that sounded like a word. She blinked, and he blinked again, then looked at her specifically.

"Liv."

"Tom!" Olivia called, sure she sounded just as terrified as she was to hear this again – maybe it had come out more as a cry, because Tom came running into the room.

"What?" He just about hurtled into the room, and she looked over at Fitz, and nodded.

"Tom, what is he saying?"

"He's not saying anything, he can't talk," Tom told her calmly, with a little bit of pity, like he was trying to remind her.

"I know, but – "

"Liv." It was louder this time, like he was frustrated with them.

"Holy Shit."

"So I'm not crazy then?" Olivia said, and Tom just continued to look dumbstruck and Olivia ran out of the room.

She made it to her own room, ignoring the abundance of abandoned tissues as she went over to her own nightstand, where her phone was charging. She just about ripped it out of the charger, hitting just one button before pressing the phone so tightly to her ear that she was sure that it would have hurt if she cared.

"Olivia?"

"Cyrus," Olivia just about gasped out.

"What's the matter? Is Fitz ok?"

"Cy, I need you to get me a speech therapist. The best one you can find," Olivia said, "I would find one myself, but I don't have time to vet anyone."

"Liv…"

"He said my name, Cy," Olivia replied, "Three times since last night. 'Liv.'"

"Liv you copied me on his last brain scans…"

"Tom heard it too."

"Tom?" Cyrus said it like he still couldn't believe it, "…I'll have someone come by this afternoon. When's his physical therapy?"

"The occupational comes today," Olivia replied, "At four. It was physical therapy yesterday. We were trying to do both in the same day, but he just got so tired…"

"I'll send speech over at two," He said, and Olivia nodded, "I'll copy you and Tom on the resume when I find it. Anything else?"

"You should come and visit, Cy."

"I'll be in D.C. next week," He said, and Olivia nodded.

"How's Governor Levinson?"

"You haven't been following. I'm hurt, Liv."

"I've been a little busy."

"I suppose I could forgive you," Cyrus quipped, "Doing…ok. He's no Fitz."

"Yeah."

"I called the other day, I don't know if Tom told you," Cyrus said, and Olivia furrowed her brow, "I talked to him for probably about ten minutes, just blabbered on – he didn't even sigh or mumble or anything."

"I think he's been listening," Olivia admitted, "Absorbing everything."

"Of all the things that have happened in the last couple months—I wouldn't be surprised," Cyrus said, and then she heard him taking a long rattling breath over the line, "So has Huck come up with anyone yet?"

"I don't – "

"You insult me, Liv," Cyrus cut her off, "I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't be sleeping at night if you didn't have one of your own guys looking into who's behind all this."

"He hasn't found anything yet."

"Alright, keep me posted," Cyrus told her, "Hang in there."

As much as Olivia wanted to be there for Fitz's therapy appointment, she had to leave for work. Tom had him out in the living room in his chair, and the nurse was feeding him his breakfast. She passed him briefly, and kissed the top of his head before headed out the door. Her house was strange now – she had, as a rule – never been one to put up photos, she was never in the same place for long enough – but the doctors had said it might help. So Fitz's room had pictures of Karen and Gerry, and of them on the walls. She had then buckled, and put pictures of them, and the kids, just the kids, and just them around the house as well. If he never remembered Mellie, that was just fine with her. It was probably better for him that way anyway.

"What is it, Mellie?" Olivia nearly snapped as she was walking to her car out in the parking garage.

"Liv, great. You're not too busy," She assumed as Olivia tried to get into the driver's seat in her car.

"Me-"

"I need to get a photo-op with Fitz and me, and the kids," Mellie replied, and Olivia rolled her eyes.

"The kids are welcome to come and visit him whenever they like," Olivia said pointedly, "But if this is for any sort of political gain – like your new gun control campaign – I wouldn't count on it. You left, which was your choice, and I covered for you because you should have left a long time ago. People make mistakes. This, this wouldn't be a mistake. This would be using a severely disabled man that was previously – no, Mellie. You cannot use him for a photo op. If that's what it takes to get the kids to see their father, they are more than welcome."

"Excuse me? Where the hell do you come off?"

"Let's cut to the chase, Mellie," Olivia took a deep breath as she put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it, "He set me as his voice, and I have to assume that he did that for a reason. Because he knew that I loved him, and would do what was best for him, not for myself. He let you use him, he let you use everyone while he was – but that stops now. You're not getting your photo op – but if the kids want to visit, they're more than welcome. Good bye, Mellie."

She didn't hear from Mellie again for a while, but she got a call from Karen the next morning making sure that she and Gerry could come visit over the upcoming break, when they were in D.C. Olivia told them that it wasn't a problem for her, that they could come and see their dad as often and for as long as they wanted – they just had to make sure Mellie was ok with it. She was not dealing with any sort of Mellie drama when it came to the kids. She felt bad that she couldn't do anything to help them, but she had no energy to deal with the woman. The kids were, however, in for a surprise when they eventually were allowed to come and visit.

It was slow, but a somewhat steady process. Which was why Olivia didn't quite trust it yet. However, after about a week of pretty intense speech therapy, he had about six words. Liv had evolved to 'Livy' which she assumed Tom had had an influence over, then it was Karen, Gerry, TV, Tom, and food. The necessities of everyday life, and the kids' names. And, he was learning new ones every day, which was a plus. Getting him to speak and understand them was a huge step, and it seemed to lighten everyone's mood at home. There was no way they were going to get a feel for what he remembered, what kind of state of consciousness he was in, if they didn't get him talking at least a little bit.

"G'evening, Tom," Olivia said as she walked into the apartment with a little smile, putting her bag down, and going over to Fitz, "How was your day today, Fitz?"

"…T.V…" He said slowly, and she nodded and Tom smirked.

"His comprehension's pretty good," Tom said, "Short term memory, it seems like he only gets confused right when he wakes up."

"Mmm," Olivia said, running her hand over his hair, "You've got a scan tomorrow."

Fitz's eyes conveyed confusion, he didn't have much expression to his face.

"Pictures," Tom tried to explain to him, "Of your head, to see the progress."

"Don't worry about it," Olivia told Fitz instead, "Don't listen to Tom."

"…Livy…"

"Yes?" Olivia thought it was important that they kept up a normalcy of conversation, and Tom had agreed to go along, even if he thought that he was just saying words – she told him that Fitz was like a toddler at this point.

"…Out…" He said, motioning over at the window, and Olivia looked over at Tom, who looked scared.

"Fitz, babe – we can't take you out of here," She tried to explain to him, "It's dangerous. You were shot."

The speech therapist had told them that it was important that they try to explain things to him, that it would help. They were up for anything that would help.

"Mr. President," Tom stepped in, and into Fitz's direct view, "You were shot going into your birthday gala."

Olivia could see tears starting to form in his eyes – confusion?

"Ok," Olivia said, and she looked over at Tom, "Maybe I can make a couple phone calls. We could take him out on White House grounds, after his scans tomorrow?"

"Therapy?"

"He doesn't have therapy on scan days, it tires him out at it is. A walk in the Rose Garden might be nice."

"That might work," Tom replied, and Olivia tapped Fitz on his shoulder lightly, "I'll look into it."

"And I'll look into getting him a power wheel chair," Olivia said, looking at Tom, "It might give him feel a little bit better – and I think he can handle it now."

Olivia took the next day off from work, Harrison could handle the case that they had, and it was more important that she was with Fitz. If they were going to take him to the Rose Garden, there was absolutely zero chance that she was going to miss it. It was apparently easy enough for Tom to get clearance, and Sally called her to confirm while they were on the way to the hospital.

"So, it's you who's taking care of him?" Sally asked, she seemed surprised.

"Yes, I am," Olivia replied shortly, "Officially, Tom's been amazing though."

"I don't doubt it, your such a great friend to the family," Sally mused, and Olivia took a deep breath.

"Yep."

"Well, I just wanted to give you a call about him coming to the Rose Garden this afternoon," Sally said and Olivia looked out the window, nodding to Tom as he was unloading Fitz into a chair to wheel him into the hospital, "I was wondering if it would be too much of a problem if I came out. Given the description of his prognosis, I don't expect him to recognize me, I'd just like to –"

"Get a photo of you and the fallen president."

"Now Olivia, you give me so little credit," Sally said tactfully, "I would simply like to thank the man for his service, whether or not he can understand me."

"I'm sorry," Olivia blinked as she got out of the car.

"…And a small press release."

"Fine," Olivia said, rolling her eyes, "Sure, that's fine. But no press no cameras."

"Of course," She replied, "God bless you, Olivia."

"I'll see you later, Sally."

Olivia was taken with Fitz right into his scans, to avoid the hang up of last time that they were there. Then, in order to save time she had a consult with the doctors once the scans had been brought up and printed out. Fitz stayed with Tom, hidden in one of the exam rooms while Tom, who had gained a lot of trust from Fitz, calmed him down after the ordeal of the scans. She hoped desperately that either Fitz would get used to the routine of doing them every three or so weeks, or the doctors would stop asking for them. She took a deep breath as she walked into the conference room with Dr. Polk.

"Hello, Miss Pope," He said, with a small charming smile as she sat down across from him.

"Hi, so what's going on?"

"Well, we're really impressed with the scans we got today," He said, and Olivia gave him a look as she looked down - even she could tell they showed only slight improvement, "The scans, not so much. But his progress is amazing. The few words that he can say – I think we can get more out of him with surgery. Repair some of the damaged cortex here…"

Wait as second, had he been smiling _charmingly_? What reason did he have for doing that? Why did her opinion of him matter if he was looking into what was best for Fitz? Mellie came to mind, trying to butter her up to try and get what she wanted, her gain out of Fitz's condition. Sally, just in the car – sure it was less, and more expected, and somehow more acceptable – but what if - ? She listened, and politely nodded to the doctor as he went into the rest of his spiel about Fitz's brain, and how he could make it better with surgery, but was checked out. Was she just being paranoid? There was no way that that could have been the case with a surgeon. A doctor. He wasn't looking for fame by doing a risky surgery on the former president of the United States. Was he?

Fitz was doing so much better, what if - even if Dr. Polk was thinking of Fitz – the surgery went badly? What if he ended up worse than he was now, and they lost what little progress they had made? What if the surgery was even went perfectly, but it just created too much scar tissue. He already had so much, anytime they were opening it up – then what if there were complications? What if one day there was a bleed, but because of the scar tissue from the surgery, they couldn't fix it right?

"Miss Pope?" Tom asked as they pulled into the basement security of the White House to get Fitz out of the car.

"Yeah, Tom?"

"We're here," He said, and Olivia nodded as she got out of the seat, Fitz – obviously – stayed where he was.

She crossed her arms as she looked to the shadowy corner where she knew lead up to the main area of the white House. They would be using the back door, out to the back grounds – the Rose Garden, but she was waiting for something. She looked back just in time to see Tom starting to unload Fitz's wheel chair from the back as she saw Daniel coming with something on a cart.

"Tom, wait," Olivia said, and Tom gave her a curious look, she nodded over to Daniel.

"Already?" He smiled, looking over at the black power wheel chair, "They make lefty chairs?"

"Of course," Olivia said proudly as Tom helped Daniel get it off the wheels and onto the ground – he was better with his left hand, "I ordered it last night. When you order things specifically for him…"

"…They come quickly," Tom finished as he went to the car to unbuckle Fitz.

After a quick tutorial, they had Fitz out in the back gardens, the speed on low so he could have maximum control to stay on the pavement. Olivia took a deep breath, they had him bundled up so that he would be warm in the still wintery air.

"This was the right thing to do," He said as they walked with Fitz's chair.

"We should keep this to a minimum, the last thing we need is for him to catch something," Olivia said, and Tom chuckled.

"I think he'll be fine," Tom replied, going around to walk backwards in front of Fitz's chair, "Are you cold, Sir?"

Fitz gave him a confused look, and paused, looking backwards up at Liv.

"I don't know," She told him, and Tom went stone faced as he spotted something behind her.

She looked, and saw Harrison and Abby walking over towards them.


	8. One By One

A/N: Hey guys! Can I just say a huge thanks for all the love for this story - totally didn't think it would get all that much interest... and some of you were wondering why I would think to write this one - I have a very accident prone family... in which we end up using a lot of different kinds of therapy, so I've just been using what I've picked up on... anyways Enjoy :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Eight: One by One

"What're you doing here?" It wasn't so much of a question as an accusation as Olivia marched over to them.

"You took the day off – your third day off this month. We wanted to bring you the case folders," Harrison said, "Huck told us where to find you – he always knows where you are.- it was only a matter of getting it out of him."

Abby had remained silent, Olivia knew that the gravity of the situation was sinking in for her. She looked over her shoulder briefly, and caught a glimpse of Fitz steering himself over to her. Tom seemed to be trying to discourage him – but he wasn't listening. Olivia turned and watched Harrison and Abby watch Fitz pull up right next to Olivia's leg, his depth perception obviously a little bit off. She looked down as he looked up, and he looked tired – exhausted. The past weeks were really taking a toll on him, and today was supposed to be his 'day off'. His hand went up, and was reaching for her, so she put her hand on his shoulder. They – she – had to watch the affection in public, particularly at the White House .Care givers were vaguely intimate to with the patients, but not nearly as feeling based as she was with Fitz.

"It's ok, Fitz," Olivia told him, realizing that both Abby and Harrison's jaws had dropped – she ignored it, "Go along with Tom. I'll be right there."

"…Li-Livy…"

"It's ok. Go ahead," She nodded to Tom, "I know you're tired – but someone wants to come say 'hi'. Then we ca go home. Go ahead with Tom."

"He's living with you?" Abby asked – shocked – as Fitz went with Tom a little ways away.

"A nurse is with him when I'm not," Olivia said, and Harrison just looked flat out confused, "I'm a little busy. He had scans this morning, and I'm his medical proxy. I had to be there, and I also wanted to be here.- "

"Mellie made you his proxy? Or he…"

"He did. Years ago, apparently."

"Why would he –" Harrison broke off as Abby whacked him in the shoulder, "Oh."

"So, I've been a little busier than usual," Olivia told them, and they nodded, "He's getting better right now. Once it calms down and he's at a good place. Things will go back to normal."

"Liv, this is not normal," Abby said as Harrison handed the folders over to her.

"Nothing about this is normal – nothing about what we do, or who we are is normal," Olivia agreed with her, "But it will be normal for us. Is this all you wanted, or was there something else you guys needed to tell me?"

"Yeah, there's press everywhere outside the grounds," Abby informed her, "They saw Fitz's car pull in."

"Those damn flags," Olivia said, just a little louder than she probably should have.

"Those damn flags are protocol," Tom shouted over, almost playfully, "They stay on the car. We'll get out without anyone snapping a picture of him, don't worry."

"We can handle it, thanks guys," Olivia said, and they nodded as they turned to see themselves out.

"…Li-vy…" Fitz said in his slow, warped speech as she walked over to him.

"What is it?" She asked him, and then paused – realizing where he was staring – a bench she knew well.

But he couldn't possibly remember that. Could he? Of course not, that was ridiculous. But still, the way that he was looking at her now.

**Three Years Ago: **

She walked out into the rose garden, not really sure what she should be expecting as she very cautiously walked out the back doors and onto the little path. It was dark, and the grounds were lit, but Fitz had had them dimmed. He usually did, just so that they could have a little more privacy. There were no cameras in the Rose Garden, security cameras of course, but none in the section that they would go to, and if they were careful about their path, nothing to even suggest that they met out there. Or even how frequently they went out there for evening strolls, or picnics. Tonight was different though, she didn't have a fluttering heart, or butterflies disturbing her normal digestive cycle – her heart felt heavy, and her feet even more so. But she had said that she would meet him, not that he gave her much of a choice. She would just keep it business, don't talk about them. Which, of course, went over fantastically.

"Livy, I don't know what you want from me," Fitz said exasperatedly, "The state of the union's in two days. Why are we spending personal time discussing it? We have a meeting tomorrow all about this…"

"I just want to make sure it's perfect," Olivia told him, "It's setting up the tone for you whole presidency. It has to be –"

"Perfect," He filled in, walking over and cupping the side of her face into one of his hands.

"Kennedy," Olivia corrected him, taking his hand off of her face, "It has to be Kennedy. People need a Camelot, and-"

"I got it, because we've gone over this," He was fighting to keep his voice under control he was so frustrated, and Olivia could see it plain as day, "What we haven't gone over is why you've been acting like – "

"Like what?"

"Not you," He replied simply, like he was giving up as his tone eased up to almost nothing, "You've been acting like a stranger – like you don't even know me. You know me, you know me better than anyone else. Do you know how much that hurts? It's be like if I just – I don't even know. You're turning your back, you're giving me the cold shoulder, and I don't even know what I did. What'd I do, Liv? Just tell me, and I'll fix it. I meant what I said: You are the most important person in my life. I'm in love with you, and I know you know that. What I think you're trying to ignore is the fact that you're in love with me too, and we're better than this type of shit. I can't function – I don't give a damn about the state of the union, because I can't think, Livy. All I can think about is I might of done, or what the hell happened to make you so upset, or angry, or whatever it is that's causing you to act like this."

"Fitz…"

"No, Livy," He said, "Don't 'Fitz…' me. Just tell me what's bothering you, what has you acting like this."

"Mellie knows."

"What?" Fitz said, looking at her like she had grown eight different heads, and his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

"I think Mellie knows what's going on."

"You can't be serious," Fitz said, his eyes narrowing a little bit, then he took a deep breath, "Liv, I told you – my marriage was orchestrated, there is no, and never was anything – "

"I just keep getting this feeling…"

"C'mere," He said, beckoning her a little closer, and sitting down on the bench behind where he had been standing.

"Fitz."

"Come. Here."

It was very clear that he had no intentions of asking another time, and for fear of what he might do if she didn't. she went over and sat down next to him. There was a long moment where neither of them spoke, and he simply leaned over and put his arm around her carefully. She felt her head fall onto his shoulder before she realized it was falling, and didn't even have time to pick it up again before he was holding it hostage there with his cheek. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"You're afraid of her," Fitz finally breathed, and Olivia didn't make a move, "Don't worry, I get it. She scars the bejesus out of me, too. And I don't know if she knows, she might – I wouldn't be surprised if she did and she just didn't care. But it doesn't matter. In the end, I don't see it being any other way but just you and me. If she knows, she knows – it'll be easier that way. She won't say anything to you – she has no right - and if she does, just let me know. But I don't want you to be afraid of her, Liv. It's insane to me, and just – please, Liv. Don't be afraid of her."

He leaned in and kissed her softly, as if to reinforce what he had just said, then told her that he loved her again. She promised to try, even though she knew that she wouldn't be able to, and Mellie came up to her in the hall the next afternoon. And, within seventy-two hours, she had made one of the hardest decisions she had ever had to make, and she had had to do it in the worst way imaginable. She had to leave Fitz, and she had to do it when he couldn't talk her, charm her, or otherwise get her not to.

**Present Day:**

They got home a rather round-about way, making sure that none of the press core was able to follow them back to Olivia's. The power chair was a little too wide, and a little too much for the apartment, so he was put back into his manual wheelchair for the few minutes before she had Tom help him into his bed for a nap. Physical Therapy had been going well, and while his legs and arms weren't necessarily working in the conventional sense, he could hold on to the bar on the edge of the bed, and pull himself a little bit. PT had apparently gotten him up on two feet, but he was wobbly, and they had had to hold him up – it wasn't quite the same as him standing, more like them holding him up. She appreciated the effort, though.

"Tom," Olivia said as she walked out of Fitz's room, having read to him until he had fallen asleep, "What do you want for lunch? I figured I would cook something now, and Fitz could eat once he wakes up."

"I'm fine with whatever," Tom replied, yawning as he followed her into the kitchen, "Bringing him into the hospital doesn't just tire him out…"

"I feel like today just won't end," Olivia commented back as she pulled out stuff for sandwiches – not exactly cooking, but she had seriously over-estimated her energy levels.

"So what was that all about, in the Rose Garden?" Tom asked, and Olivia furrowed her brow.

"Harrison and Abby? They were checking up on me – snooping."

"No, when he kept calling you Livy, and staring at that bench," Tom replied, and Olivia took a deep breath – Tom hadn't been on that night, it had been just Hal.

"It was a thing."

"I know that, I was there when you guys sat on that bench I don't know how many times," Tom said, "Do you think he's starting to remember things?"

"I don't know, he doesn't have enough words to tell us," Olivia said, adding lettuce to the middle of her turkey sandwich, "Thanks for that, by the way."

"For what?"

"Teaching him to call me 'Livy'."

"I didn't do the teaching, I just mentioned it was what he used to call you to his speech coach," Tom said, "She said it might help jog his memory once I told her. Maybe it has."

"That's ridiculous," Olivia said, and Tom shrugged.

"When they were telling him Karen and Gerry's names with the photo, he almost looked relieved," Tom said, "I looked it up, sometimes with these kinds of injuries they can sense the emotional connections to things before they remember anything else. I asked Natalie, the nurse, about it and she said that it was not only common, but usually the case."

"You think that's what's happening?"

"It makes sense," Tom said, taking a deep breath, "He knew almost on instinct that he needed you near him. He was afraid of Mellie, or she at least upset him. The kids made him cry, but we both know that he didn't _really_ recognize them... I don't know, it's just what I think. Either way, I figure once he's a little bit better he'll appreciate that I filled him in on that one."

"You really think he's going to get better?"

"He won't be perfect, but he's already way better than we ever thought he'd get, right?"

"I wanted to thank you, Tom – you're going way above and beyond…"

"Don't worry about it," He said, sounding almost ashamed of it, and he was out of the kitchen before she even realized he had made a step.

Having at the house meant that just about everything about daily life was a process, due to extra security. When she went for her run, she had to check in with the undercover who had taken over the doorman's job, and check back in with him when she got back. Security around the building had skyrocketed, and they had a rumor going around that it was just because of the rising crime rate around the city. Since Fitz had been shot, everywhere seemed a little tighter. Specifically in her apartment, it meant that anyone that wasn't her coming to the door had to be greeted by Tom. Natalie and the therapists were all either military or veterans, and they had to present the doorman with their special IDs before they got let up into the building. He also had a memorized list of other people who lived there, to making them show him their IDs as well, just for the sake of consistency. So, when Olivia heard a knock on the door – she didn't even move to get up to get it. Tom would.

"Miss Pope," He popped his head into the kitchen, "Can you come and see who it is, please? So I know whether or not I should let them in?"

She nodded, not thinking much of it as she got up to go and help him. It wasn't the first time he needed clarification on someone, and it most definitely wouldn't be the last. She threw out the last bit of her sandwich that she probably wouldn't have finished anyway, and took a sip of her water before getting up off her stool and walking with him over to the door. He slipped the peep hole open for her and she peaked through it, on her tip toes, to realize that Mellie was standing, impatiently, on the other side of the door. Her arms were crossed, and she had a prim look on her face – lips pursed together. Olivia tooka step back, and exchanged a look with Tom.

"What the hell is she doing here?" She whispered urgently to Tom and he shrugged, "What does she want?"

"Should we leave her out there? She might go away," Tom sounded hopeful, and Olivia was momentarily concerned for his overall mental health, "Right. Sorry. I'll get it."

"Mellie," She slapped ona smile as the door swung open, and Mellie stepped right on in – Olivia was just happy that Fitz was asleep, "What do we owe the pleasure?"

"This place has changed," She sneered, looking around the apartment where all of Fitz's therapt equipment was organized, but stashed away along the edges and in the corners.

"We've had a few additions to make," Olivia replied civilly, "So, what're you doing here, Mellie?"

"I just wanted to clear up a misconception you seemed to have had in our phone conversation…"

"A misconception that I had?"

"Yes. You seem to be under the impression that hwen it comes to Fitz, you have the final say. I just wanted to make sure that you didn't actually believe that, and I know you won't be speaking to me like that again. You have no power, he said that you could be his nurse – that doesn't give you any real power.I was the one that was torn down here – Fitz was too dumb to begin with, boring. But I will rise from these ashes and I will be in the winner's circle because it is my right. My birth right. It is where I belong. And I will get back there however I want. Because what happened when I release what's really been going on here? …. So, I'll be bringing the children by for a photo for the campaign…"

"No. You won't," Olivia finally found her voice, "You go ahead and release anything, and I will bury you. Because not only will releasing where he is endanger him, but Tom – who's been absolutely amazing – and myself. Not to mention the fact that public opinion, and your own personal approval ratings would drop out so quickly you'll still think you're on top without me even saying a word. All that without me bringing out the fact that you're a power hungry bitch, that you trapped him with a baby that wasn't even his, that you knew about him and I and didn't care until it was a threat to your position. The fact that he wanted out nearly four years ago – but you only signed once he had been shot and it was clear that he was going to have a long, rocky recovery. Epitomizing the fact that at the end of the day, you're only ever in anything for yourself. That doesn't even touch on the fact that you've even given up the premise of asking how he's doing – and wanted to ship him to rot in a nursing home. But you go ahead and try to tell the press your sob story, because I have more than enough to destroy you. I would have to write a book to get it all out."

There was a silence that lingered as she passed, and Tom looked from Mellie to her, and back again. Mellie looked like she was in a state of shock that Olivia wasn't simply going to let her steam roll right through. She wasn't going to be bullied by Mellie. She didn't have the time, patients, or energy. She sighed.

"So, you can go now, and you can stop thinking that you have any right to come into my home and speak to me like you just have. I do not have time for you, Mellie. Tom will get the door for you."

She walked out of the room and went back into Fitz's room, some weird sense in the back of her head telling her that he had woken up. He hadn't, which was good – he needed his rest. She usually figured out a way to give him one day a week that would let him rest up. She understood that he needed his therapists in order to get better, but he also needed time to heal up after pushing him as hard as they did. However, in this case – she didn't want to go back out until she was sure that Mellie was gone. So, she went over and kissed the top of Fitz's sleeping head before turning and going to check on his closet situation, and realized that his hamper was getting pretty full.

"…Livy…" It almost made her jump, until she realized that Fitz had woken up.

"Right here," She said, walking over to the side of his bed, taking his hand.

"…Lah…"

"Take it easy – think about it."

"…Lahve…" He said looking right at her, and she nodded.

"That's right. I love you."

"…love…"

He blinked significantly.

"…be-"

"Take it slow."

"…bah-"

He was starting to get frustrated, she could tell by the way he was starting and stopping.

"…Bay…"

"Baby," Olivia said, for him and he nodded.

"…bay-be…" He tried it out, and she gave him a small reassuring smile.

"You're asking about the baby? Mellie's- oh my God – how much do you remember…"

He nodded, and she took a second to take a breath, she had known this was coming, right? It was, in fact, how the world worked.

"Fitz, the baby – it wasn't yours," Olivia told him, and he nodded, "I didn't know – the kids told me he had been born, but Mellie didn't tell me until I called her – and she said it wasn't yours."

She had been expecting something a little bit more significant as far as a response, but in the light of everything else that was going on, she saw why there wasn't. God only knew when he had remembered that there was even a baby that could have been his. She gave him a little nod, and she patted the back of his hand.

"I'm going to go get Tom," She told him, "He can help you into your chair – Cy should be over to visit any minute."

"…Cy…"

"That's good," Olivia told him as she started to head out of the room, "I'm sure he'll love to hear that."

She walked out into the living room, and smiled when she spotted that Cyrus had replaced Mellie's presence in her living room, standing almost in the exact same spot.

"Liv," He smiled as she went over to hug him in greeting.

"How was your flight?" Olivia asked him, then looked around him to Tom, "He's awake, could you help him into the chair?"

"Good," Cyrus answered her shortly as Tom nodded and went to get Fitz from his room, "So how's the speech coming along?"

"He's got a couple two syllable ones, but mostly they're one," Olivia told him, and he nodded, "And it takes him a while. He's started to just repeat you when you say a word he wants to know how to say. I think the therapist told him to do it."

"Good," Cyrus said, and Olivia smiled, "Now get the hell out of here."

"Excuse me?"

"Go – take the afternoon off. I saw Mellie leaving when I was coming in – between her and Fitz I know you need a little time to yourself, so go," Cyrus said, "I'm your relief, go and get a coffee, or do something else. For the next four hours – I can handle Fitz."


	9. Guilt & Broken Hearts

A/N: Let it be known that Thursday night was the night I got re-tweeted by Scott Foley (I know, not Tony – but still cool) Anyway I only missed the Friday for east coasters by an hour, sorry guys…. Enjoy the chapter :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Nine: Guilt & Broken Hearts

Olivia took a deep breath as she went around her apartment, early – normal early – getting ready for work. Cyrus was staying in a nearby hotel, and was there for just another couple of days. He, and she never thought that she would ever be thinking this, was a god-sent. He showed up in the morning, and helped the Nurse in the morning before he had to go to work himself, most of which he could email in. Olivia could get to work at her old time. And while they learned the first day that if she wasn't the one to wake Fitz up, he was upset all morning – it was working. She had her fingers crossed that his candidate would win, that Cyrus could stay in D.C. She was sure James was having a coronary about it, but it was useful having him around. She trusted him with Fitz in a way that she couldn't trust the nurse, or the therapists, or the doctor. She trusted Cyrus, and she trusted Tom – but having both of them at the apartment with him most of the day made her more at ease. And, of course, the fact that Fitz was two baby steps closer to being 'old Fitz' again, she was doing better. She knew that Cyrus was going to have to leave again, but she was thankful for anything he could do.

"It's almost seven," Tom said, as she was fixing her coffee in the kitchen.

"I know," She told him, "I'm going to wake him up now. Is Cyrus here yet?"

"His car just pulled in," Tom told her, and she nodded as she left her travel mug on the counter and went to wake Fitz.

She eased herself into the room, careful not to startle him as she turned on the little desk light in the corner. There was just enough light to see, but not enough to wake him up. It had appeared the other night, after the second time she had fallen asleep in his room with him, and she had some sort of idea that it was Tom, or someone who put it in there so she wouldn't trip. No one had claimed it yet. She edged around the bed, and up to where Fitz was sleeping, on his side – finally actually looking comfortable as she walked over and draped her hand lightly onto the side of his face. She ran her hand up through his hair, and then dragged it carefully back down his cheek before leaning over and barely brushing her lips over his forehead.

"Fitz, it's time to wake up," She said softly, just loud enough to wake him.

"Mmm.." He moaned a little as his eyes opened up a little bit.

"Fitz, you have to wake up, ok?"

",,,Livy…"

"Hey, Cy's here, he's going to stay with you until we have to bring you to the doctor, ok?" She told him, speaking slowly, and it took him a minute, but then he nodded carefully.

"..Doc.."

"He just wants us to come in for a chat," Olivia told him, patting down his hair lightly, "You don't have to do anything but sit there. Do you – remember anything today?"

He had been having little bits of flashes of things, but she still couldn't be sure if or what he remembered and when. His speech therapist said that the two syllable words seemed to really be a problem for him, and he wasn't always – there. He was starting to use more than one word in conjunction with each other, but that was really it so far.

"…Cy…No… You."

"I know, Fitz, but I have to go to work," Olivia told him, "Natalie should be here in a little while to help you get ready, ok?"

She helped him sit up, and she pressed pillows up so that he was being held up. She leaned over and kissed the side of his head, then started to head out towards the door. Knowing, as she left the apartment, that Cyrus was sitting in the living room let her actually leave. Otherwise, if Fitz was asking her to stay, she would at least be late(r) getting to work than she would have planned. The guilt of leaving him wasn't so bad when she knew that both Cyrus and Tom were there with him. Friendly faces, that he knew their names, and they would be patient with him. They would make sure that he was taken care of, and wasn't going to have a problem. And more than that, she even trusted them to get him to the hospital, where she would meet up with them just after lunch.

"How was work?" Cyrus asked her, playing the domesticated house friend as she walked into the hospital exam room, where he and Tom were sitting with Fitz.

"Ok," Olivia shrugged, they had stopped their whispering, that was nice – she put an arm around Fitz in his chair, "You alright?"

"….Yes…."

"….Livy…." He paused, and rolled his eyes.

"I think he wants to show you something," Tom said, exchanging a knowing look with Cyrus.

"He's been working on it all week, as a surprise," Cyrus said with a little smile, like he would use with a kid.

"What is it?" Olivia asked, making sure to direct it at Fitz.

"…One…"

"One Minute?" She filled in, and there was something in his eyes that told her he knew something more.

She watched as he reached down, putting his hands down on the wheels of his chair. Olivia furrowed her brow, and glanced over at Cyrus quickly, who nodded over to Fitz again. She looked over, and he was pushing on the wheels. Then, he was pushing himself to the other side of the room, and Cyrus had to go over and turn him around, but that wasn't the point. He was pushing himself, and soon he would be able to do that, all by himself. He was going to try and turn himself around before Cy got there. He was mobile, he was talking, he was in there, and he was – in fact – starting to remember. She knew that she was going to cry, and she took a deep breath – not really letting herself get there.

"How are we doing this afternoon?" Dr. Polk asked as he walked into the room, carrying Fitz's folder under his arm and sitting down in a stool in the corner.

"….oh….kay…"

Olivia smiled, as she watched the concentration on his face. It always took so much for him to say anything clearly. It was like he had to think three or four times as much about what he was saying before he could actually make a noise. The speech therapist told her that this was normal, and with the level of his injury, she seemed to think that it might not go away. It was hard to see him struggling so much trying to string words together – but did she really think that he would be able to get out of this without any lasting effects? Well, other than the fact that he couldn't, and probably wouldn't be able to put weight on his legs. They were fairly useless at this point.

"Doing _really_ well then," Dr. Polk gave them all a charismatic smile – and Olivia was really starting to hate him, "I just wanted to bring you all in, because there's an opportunity here for an operation that might help you out. I don't know what we can do for his legs, but speech, motor-function. We might be able to help."

"What are the risks?" Olivia asked him, pointedly – she could see that Cyrus was about as suspicious as she was.

"They're easily outweighed by the potential for him to get better."

What had happened to the experimental? All the things that he had told her could be a problem –

"Excuse me, I don't think - " Olivia broke off, looking over at Cyrus, "He's doing much better as it is, and he's still… You haven't listed half the problems, and the issues that you've told me about before…"

"Ok, I think we're done here," Cyrus said, standing straight from where he had been leaning against the wall.

"Please…"

"Listen, I get it," Cyrus said, "There's no glory in saving him in the state that he's in. But that doesn't mean Olivia's going to let you cut into his brain just to see what you can do. No, sorry – I think we'll be taking a new doctor."

"Excuse me? I wouldn't be a good doctor if I didn't – "

"Try to convince us into a surgery you know is only going to make his deficits worse – I'm in politics, I know when someone's bullshitting," Cyrus said, "No, I'd like you to have a nurse gather up his history, and have it ready to go. Come on, Liv, Fitz, we've got an appointment we have to get to."

Olivia looked over at Cy, and Tom took hold of the back of Fitz's wheel chair. She was following them, surrounded by other Secret Service Agents before she even realized that they were walking. She kept her mouth shut until they got outside, and Tom had loaded Fitz into the car, and shut the door for him. Olivia crossed her arms as she stood on the sidewalk with Cyrus.

"Cy – I don't have time to find, and vet, and try and trust another doctor," Olivia said, "At least I knew I couldn't trust this one…"

"Never trust the new one," Cyrus said casually, "But you're not going to be dragged in and have him talk about something so stupid in front of Fitz. You should not have to deal with such an arrogant, self serving… - I'll find another doctor by the end of the day."

"Ok," Olivia replied as Tom came over behind them, "We have an appointment?"

"A quick one," Cyrus said, and Olivia nodded, "They're coming to the house, too."

"What're you two doing?" Tom asked as he came up and stood with them.

"Waiting for the rest of the agents," Olivia replied, and Tom rolled his eyes.

"Wait inside the car, honestly," Tom sighed, "It's like you two don't even realize how at-risk you are. Especially when you're physically with him – we still…"

"Sorry, Tom," Olivia said, as Cyrus opened the door to the car for her, "I know, we still don't know who shot him, and until we know that – we don't know why."

"Exactly," Tom breathed as Olivia and Cyrus climbed into the back seat of the car.

They all got back to her apartment, or as she was thinking about it now, her, Fitz, and Tom's. They walked in and Fitz wheeled himself over to the window, while she went over into the kitchen to fix up a snack. It took her a minute to realize that the secret service agents that accompanied them to the hospital hadn't left, and Cyrus was sitting on her couch. The plan was that he was going to head out as soon as they got back, and Olivia would wait around for Natalie to come.

"Where's Natalie?" Olivia asked as she walked back out into the living room, looking at Cyrus – then turning to Tom, "Why haven't the extra secret service gone yet?"

"We're expecting a visitor, Miss Pope" Tom replied, he was in 'Secret Service' mode, as opposed to the normal, Tom at home mode.

"Are you ever just going to call me Olivia?"

"I doubt it, Miss Pope," Tom said, cracking a little smile as the door opened up, and a few more secret service agents came filing in.

"Tom," Cyrus said, "Can you bring Fitz in for his nap?"

Tom looked over at Olivia, who looked to Fitz, who was starting to doze in his chair.

"It's ok, Tom." Olivia told him, and he nodded as he headed over to bring Fitz into his room.

He disappeared with Fitz as the front door opened, no one bothering to knock, and several of the secret service agents filed into the living room. Olivia looked over at Cyrus, who was decidedly not looking at her – refusing to make eye contact with her. It took a minute, and the agents looked around a bit before nodding to the agent that was still standing in the doorway before Sally Langston walked through the doorway. She was in her almost trademarked, and she probably should work on that if she hadn't already, red skirt suit and her lips pursed. Olivia backed up, a little surprised to see her there, and Sally gave her a little smile.

"Olivia."

"Sally," Olivia replied, "Come on in, sit down. I have to admit, I'm kind of confused as to wha-"

"I asked Cyrus the other day if I could come by," Sally said, and Olivia glanced over at Cy, "I have to admit, I admire you, Olivia. You've been going about your normal business, and running your own business all while taking such good care of our fallen leader. Bringing him back to the point where he is speaking in words, and seems to be aware of his surroundings, and what's going on. It's very impressive."

"Thank you," Olivia said, "If you wanted to see him, he's just gone to take his afternoon nap –"

"I saw him the other day, and while I'd like to – that's not the reason I'm here," She said, "I wanted to offer you a job with me. You would have normal hours, and no one calling you in the middle of the night. I'm well – drowning in the water here. The American people are grieving, and having some of his team might raise morale. But the point is I need a good analyst, you're the best."

"Liv, I think you should really think about this," Cyrus said, noticing her opening her mouth, "This would mean that you would be home by four, and you can be here for his therapy sessions. We all know he does better when you're there."

"I-"

She couldn't just abandon her 'gladiators' they needed her. She already felt bad enough when it came to them. It was like she was spending so much time with one child – who clearly needed the attention - and all the rest of the children were being very obviously neglected. She was thinking about Huck, and Harrison, Abby, and Quinn - She took a deep breath, and was about to say something to this effect, but Sally stopped her.

"You don't have to tell me tonight," She told her, "It's a lot to think about. It's an open-ended offer, but I'd like to hear from you by the end of the week either way – for now."

Olivia woke up the next morning late, though it had been on purpose. She had ended up getting a call late that night, and having to go out at two in the morning .She had gotten back to her apartment at four, and told the team to do the same. They all needed their sleep, and get back to the office for noon. She woke up around ten, staring up at the ceiling. She hadn't been to see Verna in a long time, and she needed to see her. God only knew what kind of shape she was in now. She hadn't even gone since before Fitz woke up. What kind of friend was she? She took a breath and turned onto her side, and realized that Fitz was sitting by her bedside, in his chair – apparently watching her ed.".

"Well this is a change of pace," She said, yawning as she went onto her side and propped her head up on her arm, "You wheel yourself in here, or did Tom…"

"…Me…"

"Good job," Olivia smiled, and he swallowed.

"….I…. not…Good…" He attempted in his broken speech, and Olivia nodded, "Not…This… Way…"

"I know," Olivia said, sitting up, and on the edge of the bed so that they were pretty much face to face, "This isn't what you want." .

"I…Life…With…You," Olivia could see the strain on his face to keep the train of thought, this was the most she had heard him speak, "Sir…ger…e"

"Fitz, the surgery. It's not a real option," Olivia tried to tell him, and she could see him starting to get emotional, she reached her hand out and patted down the side of his hair affectionately.

"Not…What….I…Said…"

"That is what you said," Olivia said, and he shook his head.

"Promised." He said it clear as day, and Olivia understood.

"Fitz, how much do you remember?" She asked him, and he just looked at her, "There's no way you can speak that much, huh?"

"…No…"

"Bits and pieces? Or most of it with a few things missing? Or All of it?"

"...two…"

"So you..." She stopped, realizing the way he was looking at her, "Fitz. Chances are you would end up worse than you are now. I can't – I can't do this all from scratch again. It's dangerous – if something else were to happen to you – I don't know what I would…"

"Promised….life," Fitz told her again, and Olivia gave him a nod.

"I know what you promised me, Fitz," Olivia said, her hand trailing down the side of his face, his neck, to his shoulder, "How about you make me a different promise?"

"…Promise?"

"Yes," Olivia replied, taking a deep breath, "A different promise. You promise me that you're going to keep fighting, and trying. That's all I want. I just want you to keep on improving."

"…No…"

"Fitz."

"…Oh – kay…"

"Thank you."

She leaned in to kiss his forehead, and at the last second Fitz tilted his head back. This resulting in her lips landing on his, with the usual spark transferred from his lips to her's. She pulled away with a little smile, typical Fitz. He didn't have a great control over his face, but she knew as she was looking at him that if he could, he would be smiling.

"I hope you enjoyed that," She smirked as she got up.

"…Yes.."

"You're good with yes and no's, huh?" Olivia chuckled as she got behind his chair and pushed him out of the room back out in the hallway, "C'mon, let's go get some breakfast."

"…Tom…"

"Tom's already making breakfast," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded as they arrived in the kitchen, and Tom was standing with a skillet, making eggs.

"Your usual omelet," Tom said, shoveling her breakfast onto a plate.

"…Tom…"

"Yours is on the table," Tom told him, and there was a plate of very scrambled and broken up eggs waiting with a fork.

"…Tha…"

"Thanks," Tom filled in for him, "Your welcome, Mr. President."

"You know what he just did?"

"What?" Tom asked, as Olivia tied a bib around Fitz's neck – so that he could feed himself.

"He stole a kiss."

"He's having a good day," Tom's face was all one big smile, "That sounds like him."

"I think I'm going to… " Olivia said as she looked over at the television.

The screen had just been taken over by a large picture of Verna. She looked back over at Fitz, who had seen it, and was staring at her, like he was waiting for her reaction. The reporter was explaining that she had passed away earlier that morning – while Olivia was sleeping. When she woke up thinking about going to see her. She had known this was coming, she had just thought - that she would have more time. Or something. That it would be different when she passed, like she had been there, or someone had been there with her. Suddenly she felt something on her leg, and looked down to see Fitz had wheeled himself over, and had put his hand on her thigh – what he could reach.

"I'm ok," She told him, but the worried look didn't leave his eyes, "I just need a minute."

"Take your time," Tom told her as she left the room, heading back towards the living room to get a breath – it felt like all of the air had left her lungs – tears starting to stain her face.

"…Livy…"

"I'll be back in a minute, I'm really ok, Fitz."

"…Livy…"

"Miss Pope!" Tom called.

"What?" Olivia asked, popping her head back into the kitchen, and looking at the TV – which both of them were frozen looking at.

"…_.Reports are coming in that the former President of the United States has been under the care of his long-time girlfriend Olivia Pope…" _

There was a knock on the door like someone was attacking it, or three or four people. She assumed it was four.


	10. Someone Like You

A/N: So this chapter's title… yeah it's a movie that I love…that I later (after I bought it, before scandal was a thing) realized was directed by sir Capitan of our ship…. so I thought I'd slip it in there… anyways enjoy!

I Know You My Heart

Chapter Ten: Someone Like You

She was wrong, because when she and Tom ran over to answer the door, there were five people in the process of banging down the door. Abby and Harrison were right in the front, with Cyrus between them, and Quinn and Huck in the background. She nor Tom really had a chance to say anything before they all ambushed into the room. Harrison went straight over to the windows, and pulled the curtains so that no one could see inside. Abby, Quinn, and Cyrus were having a volume war as ot who would be heard, and what would be heard the loudest. Tom scooted over behind them, and shut the door as Olivia caught a glimpse outside, where there was a sea of reporters complete with flashing lights like white caps on the ocean. She turned just in time to see Fitz wheeling himself in to see what was going on, confused and looking slightly in pain.

"Everybody be quiet!" She yelled, trying to keep it from becoming a scream – and everyone fell silent, "Tom."

"Back up security is on the way," Tom replied, "This complex isn't safe now, we're getting ready to move everyone here to a safe house just outside the city."

"Safe house?" Harrison questioned, "How the hell are we getting out of here?"

"Plans had to be in place in order or the President to be allowed to live here," Tom replied, "Believe me, there are several ways out. Including, and not at all limited to blocking off the street and declaring the whole surrounding area a temporary state of emergency. We can and will shut down the whole city if need be."

"Ok."

"The only problem is, if someone wanted to get another shot in…"

"Liv," Cyrus spoke up, and they all looked over at him, "Verna, Liv."

"How do you – " Olivia trailed off, but somehow she just knew that he was telling the truth, "Tom, can you bring Fitz into his room and…"

Fitz hit the lock on his wheelchair. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Fine," Olivia said, and she looked over at Tom, "Do I have time to pack a bag?"

"We're leaving in twenty minutes," He replied, and Olivia nodded – then motioned for Cyrus to follow her.

"C'mon," She said, and led him off into her room, shutting the door behind her, "Verna shot him."

"She couldn't take what we did to put him there, she wanted to take him out," Cyrus replied, and Olivia took a deep breath, "She confessed to me last night – turns out she couldn't take shooting him either. She said she missed you, said it was Karma for what she did to Fitz."

"Or what she could have expected," Olivia said pointedly, "That hateful bitch – I can't believe she's gone."

"Me either," Cyrus sighed as she started throwing clothes into a bag for herself, "Sally called this morning – wanted to know if there was anything she could do. Personally, I think she's done enough."

"You think she did this?" Olivia asked, and Cyrus gave her a questioning look.

"Mellie?"

"One of the two."

"I'll talk with anaylists, see how the press is feeding it to the public," Cyrus said, whipping out his phone as Olivia zipped up her bag, and tossed it to Tom as he edged into the room.

"Ready?" He asked, "The car's at exit three. They've blocked all the others."

"Yeah," Olivia said, taking a deep breath as she and Cyrus followed Tom out of the room. Them through the

Fitz was in his chair just outside the door, and had a very frustrated look on his face. She took a deep breath, and tried not to look at him as the extra secret service agents filed in, and brought the though the building. The building itself was completely empty, and she had to assume that had everything to do with the massive amounts of secret service agents, and the SWAT team that were guiding them through the hallways back to a back door that had enough coverage that they could disperse into the three limousines that were waiting.

"Miss Pope," Tom gathered everyone around, including Fitz who had insisted on wheeling himself all the way down, "You're staying with him. Cy, and –"

"Cy and Abby," Olivia said, taking over, "You two are going in the first Limo. Harrison, you're in number two. Quinn and Huck, you're in three. It's going to take you to a safe house in Virginia. A half an hour after you leave, Fitz and I get into a fourth car with Tom, and go to the real safe house."

"We'll get you guys back strategically," Tom assured them, "To the real safe house. The whole process should take two hours."

It took three, but it worked like a charm – it just took a little bit longer for the press to decide that they should follow the limousines to where they were going. As soon as all of them were gone, a street car was brought around for Olivia, Tom, and Fitz. Tom called to the other agents to start siphoning the others back to the house while Olivia tried to get Fitz settled in, which was harder than it usually was because he was being stubborn, and barely looking at her.

"Fitz," she said, sitting in the corner of the room she was prepping for him to sleep in that night, and Tom was out in the living room on the phone, "I get that you're angry at me – but with your limited speech, it's going to be hard for me –"

"Cy."

"Yes, I needed a private word with Cyrus."

"…me…"

"About you – but not really about you," She defended, putting away some of the things they had needed to take from her apartment, "It was about the night you got shot – I didn't-"

"…was…there…"

"Yes," Olivia nodded, "You were there, but - I'm sorry. I should have included you."

He nodded lightly as she sat down on the bed, and he wheeled himself further into the room.

"It was Verna," She told him as she embedded her fingers into the thick of his hair, "Who hired the hit on you."

"…us…"

"What about us?"

"…out…"

"We don't know yet, ba-"

She stopped herself, but his ears perked up. He kept looking at her while she froze in time, and he gave her eyes like he wanted her to keep talking. She sighed heavily, and then leaned in and kissed him softly. She tried to keep it quick, but then she felt his hand come up on the back of her neck, and she couldn't stop. Eventually, she pulled away, and wiped some of her lip-gloss off of his lower lip. She watched as he took a deep breath, his eyes looked amazed, and she leaned in and kissed his forehead.

"Baby," She told him, "We don't know who outed us yet, baby."

There was a light tug on one side of his face, but it was nothing resembling that old Fitz smile – it wasn't even anything that you could actually call a smile. It was on the list of things that she actively missed, those Fitz smiles – the way that they had brightened up his whole face. She sighed as she sat back on the bed, and his hand came up onto her knee.

"You're getting good with those hands."

"Of course he is. He's getting better by the day," Tom said as he walked in, "Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Beene's car has arrived."

"Thanks, Tom," Olivia took a breath as she got up, and Fitz followed her out into the living room.

Olivia went out and sat on the couch, and was vaguely aware that Fitz had wheeled himself over next to her, and Tom was going over to the door. She was racking her brain to figure out how in the hell Mellie could possibly be so stupid. There was no way that she could let her get away with this – and that was the point. Mellie didn't really have anything to gain by outing them, and all of Heaven knew that Mellie didn't breathe without thinking about what was in it for her. Sally didn't really make sense either because the press, in this case, was far too volatile to guess. Either they were going to applaud her, and them as a love story – or they would crucify her, and it would be some big Karmic joke. But if they loved her, it would be all that much better if Sally had her on staff. If she was even going to contemplate accepting that – it was still very tempting.

"We might not know who spoke up for a while," Cyrus said as he and Abby hustled into the house.

"What're they even saying?" Olivia asked, then jerked her head over to watch Fitz.

She had caught a glimpse of him pushing up on his wheel chair out of the corner of her eye, and turned just in time. He was pushing himself up, using his upper body strength that he had been working on to lift his own self out of his chair, and swinging himself over onto the couch. Of course this didn't work, but she had realized what was happening just in time to lean over and break his fall as he hit his head against the couch – thank God – and landed in somewhat of a heap on the ground.

"Careful, Mr. President," Tom nearly shouted as he came over to help lift him up so that he was sitting on the couch next to Olivia – who was brushing him off, "We haven't quite perfected that one, sir."

"Do you want an ice pack?" She asked him, "Did you hurt anything?"

"…Neh…"

"Is that a no? Or a Knee?" Olivia asked him, and he put his hand on his left knee.

"I'll get some ice," Tom dismissed himself.

"…NNN….EEE… EEE."

"Knee," Olivia repeated for him, so that he knew she understood, and rubbed it a little for him – she turned to Cy, "Anyway, so what're the news networks saying?"

"They're scrambling," Cyrus said, taking a deep breath.

"Half of them are praising you like a saint, and digging for details of the pre-shooting relationship, and the other half of them are shouting about how he somehow deserves what happened," Abby said, not really taking a minute for a breath, "Good news is, the source hasn't come forward yet – so it should be easy enough to tell them some other narrative –that you were given the proxy after the divorce…."

Fitz looked up at Olivia from where he was slouched next to her on the couch.

"No."

**Two Years Ago: **

Olivia hated going into the White House – for anything. Huck had almost even said something when she was leaving, but as the rest of the team was there, he kept his mouth shut. Senator Smith had a packed day, and therefore couldn't seem to find the time to break away for more than twenty minutes from his back to back meetings with none other than Fitz. Olivia had been less than pleased, and even gone so far as to openly question whether he really cared if his past career in erotic films got out or not. He did, obviously, because he then had a few very choice words with Harrison. And eventually, Olivia ended up apologizing to him, well as close to apologizing as she went in business-wise. She agreed to meet him when he could.

"Liv?" Fitz walked up next to her as she was leaving – this was why she hated it, and avoided going at all costs.

"I don't have time, Fitz," She told him as she tried to walk faster, then she felt his arm hook in with her's – and he was pulling her into a side room, "Lincoln library – this is new. Usually it's one of the conference rooms or-"

"Olivia," He said, rolling his eyes and dropping his arms like he couldn't really take any more.

"What do you want, Fitz?"

"Exactly what I've always wanted, Olivia," He replied, and she nodded.

"That's exactly what you're getting," Olivia reminded him, immediately regretting being so harsh.

"Really, Livy?"

"You know what I mean," She told him, "We're waiting, right? You can't just expect me to sit at home and –"

"Oh, so we're still going with that plan?"

"You think I would go back on it?"

"No, but I didn't think you'd resign either," He retorted angrily, and then took a deep breath, clearing his head for a more diplomatic reply, "I miss you."

"In four years, you won't have to," She said moodily as she turned and looked out the window instead of at him.

"I don't want to have to now," Olivia could tell that he was walking up behind her, then felt his hand brush over her ass, "This plan was for you, remember? This isn't what I wanted. I wanted to give up the presidency, and I wanted to just come out with it. I never wanted us to be a secret, Liv. I wanted –"

"What did you want, Fitz?" Olivia turned around, and swatted his hand as he tried to set it down on her hip.

"I want to be with you," He told her, leaning in and kissing her forehead – she shriveled up a little on the inside – how was she supposed to fight that? "I don't give a shit about all the presidency stuff – I don't care if I become a laughing stock on late night television. This – all of this – it's what I wanted in a different life, Livy. I changed, I'm a completely different person now – and I can't do this…"

"You can, Fitz," Olivia told him, reaching up and stroking his cheek, "Because you have to. You're spoiled by everyone, and I'm not an exception to that. I – we can't Fitz. We can't just let the people down because you want to be with me. You – "

"…have to," He concluded, and Olivia nodded.

"I'm sorry."

**Present Day: **

"We're not going to deny it," Olivia said, breaking up the master plan that Cyrus and Abby were hatching, "Stop. We're going to put it all out there."

"What?" Abby said shrilly.

"Liv," Cyrus sounded like he had in the hospital when she said she wanted Fitz to come home with her.

"It's not me," Olivia replied, nodding over at Fitz.

"Let's just see what they're saying," Abby flipped on the TV.

For the third time that day, they instantly recognized the person that was on the screen. In this case, it was Dr. Polk who was sitting down on a panel with the six'o'clock news. Olivia's eyes went wide, and turned to look at Cyrus, and then up at Tom.

"Well, that answers that question," Cyrus was punching numbers into his phone as he got up to leave the room.

Thanks to him, Dr. Polk was very quickly blacklisted from just about every job that he might be able to find in the continental United States. Though, given the amount of money Olivia knew that he was being paid per interview, she was fairly certain that if he budgeted his money well, then it wouldn't be too much of a problem for him. The press didn't calm down for a while. Olivia, Tom, and Fitz stayed at the safe house for a week while the secret service revamped the security at the apartment, and got ready to bring them back. Olivia was going nuts, because while they were there – she wasn't exactly free to come and go as she pleased. The good part was that the team was working on her. Her and Fitz.

It was quickly determined that the press, and for that matter, the American people were not going to calm down and stop gossiping until they got a little bit of information. They had to be careful what they released, but they were working on releasing little bits of the narrative at a time. First the released how they had met, and the very beginnings of their relationship, though edited to keep Mellie appeased. Then it was that they were mostly broken up for the extent of his presidency, and that they had always planned to be together in the end. Most of the network news stations had jumped on the 'doomed love-story' bandwagon. So much so that Sally Langston, even though Olivia hadn't given her a real answer, invited her to bring him to a party. A party that was essentially a party for him, to reintroduce him to the world. They didn't agree until it was clear that they weren't going to calm down until they physically saw him.

"You look pretty, Mrs. Pope," Tom said as she walked down the stairs of the safe house, she had just finished getting into her gown for the ball.

"Thank you, Tom," Olivia commented, "Your tux looks fantastic, you looking forward to seeing the inside of the White House again, as a guest?"

"I don't think my brain will ever calm down enough to just be a guest," Tom replied, fixing the tie on his tux, "But alright. How about you? We get to move back to the apartment tomorrow."

"I'm thrilled," Olivia grinned, as she headed into Fitz's room.

She had helped him into his tuxedo before she had gone up to shower and get ready herself. She had left his hair a mess, and walked in with a hot face cloth. Recently he had been very adamant about his independence – so she handed him the cloth, and he reached up and dabbed at his face himself. She grabbed his comb off the dresser, and came back with a little gel to fix his hair for him. She was working on gelling it back when she chuckled a little.

"Your hair's getting long," She commented as she arranged the curls on the back of his head, "Maybe we should get you a haircut before we get back home tomorrow – on the way?"

"…no…"

"Fitz."

"…You like…"

"Yes, I like the curls," Olivia smiled as she walked around to fix his tie, and take the cloth, "Maybe we'll wait another week or two?"

He nodded. He was handsome – he had always been able to pull off a suit better than not just the average person, but anyone at all. That hadn't changed, even without his charming smile. He started to wheel himself out of the room, and she laughed at his excitement to go out. When Sally had originally invited them, Fitz had been eager to show interest in going. Olivia had been much more cautious, while Tom was – as per usual – just ready to go along with whatever they decided. It wasn't until Cyrus had suggested that they use it was a 'coming out of hiding' party. To, since this was what they were insisting on, come out into the open as to what was going on.

"Ready to go in?" Olivia asked as they paused in the limo, and she reached over to fix his tie again, and straighten his lapel.

"…Yeah…"

"I'll grab his chair out of the trunk," Tom excused himself and got out of the limo – letting the noise of the people lined up along the red carpet echo into where they were sitting.

"Do you want Tom to push you, or do you want to wheel yourself?" Olivia asked him carefully, "Or I could push your chair-"

"…I…"

"Alright," Olivia accepted it, and got out of the car to help Tom.

She kept the chair steady while Tom supported Fitz until he could get him all settled in. They had skipped his physical therapy – much to his dismay – that day so that he could have as much energy as possible. She had told him that his physical exercise that day would be wheeling himself around the party and finding some way to dance with her at least once, probably more than. Even though it went against every cell in her body, she let Sally parade them around the party and introduce them to everyone like they were her prized show ponies. Everyone marveling at how well Fitz was.

"…Dance?..." Fitz said as soon as they were left alone for more than ten seconds.

"How?"

He patted his lap, and Olivia chuckled.

"Really?"

"My idea," Tom said, coming up behind them, "He's in a chair, so it's not like he's going to have trouble supporting you. Then there's always the fact that you're maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet – I think he can take it."

Fitz patted his lap again, and Olivia laughed.

"No."

"You're going to say 'no' to that face?" Tom motioned over to Fitz.

"How am I supposed to fit on that with him?" Olivia asked, looking up at Tom, with a playful smile, "If this is your grand plan."

"Just make sure you don't fall off," Tom said, and Olivia chuckled as she handed him her purse, and sat down in Fitz's lap.

He wrapped one arm around her, and Tom wheeled them over into the middle of the dance floor.

"..Tom…"

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving."

Olivia smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, as if they were actually dancing like all the other, 'normal' couples. He put his hands down on his wheels and made the chair spin slightly as she pressed her forehead to his.

"…Not too…bad."

"Not bad at all, Mr. President," She told him playfully, and he snuck in a kiss.

"I…. la-love… yeh – ou you."

"I love you, too," Olivia assured him with a smile.

"Miss Pope," Tom came up, and she very carefully climbed off of Fitz's lap, "You have a phone call."

"Thanks, Tom," Olivia said, as they headed off the dance floor, and paused by their table.

"Mr. President. Mr. President."

Olivia put her phone down and looked over to see what Tom was talking about. Fitz had fallen out of his wheel chair, like he had melted right out of it – completely lost control of his body, and was shaking on the ground. She fell to her knees by his head, trying to keep it from staying straight. It was to the side right? In case he vomited? Her ears were ringing with the screams of people who had noticed while Tom turned him right on his side.

"Falcon down – we need help!" He called into his wrist, "An ambulance right to the main ballroom."


	11. Shaken

A/N: Ok, guys – this author's note's long, so please bear with me… I got one review that was particularly amaze-balls that came from a 'guest' and was actually posted after I was supposed to post this… so this week I'm not apologizing for being late. However, there is one response I'd like to give her (If you are in fact male, I'm sorry for assuming that mostly women read this) that I've been aware of/paying attention to Shonda since I was eleven (She's actually been a bit of an inspiration, because she writes what she wants, and doesn't really give a crap what anyone else thinks, which is also why I too hate her sometimes as well)… and I can usually pick one or two paths that she's going to follow in her writing (You don't want to theorize with me, because I'm usually right and it completely takes the fun out of it) Anyway, in doing that, and being the internet goober that I am, I've also been around for at least a few rounds of "where does she live? We should form an angry mob and burn her castle to the ground because she's completely lost her mind". However, when you think about it, how much emotion has she stirred up in you all? Isn't that her job?

She made you fall in love, (times about a million and a half because damn that Tony Goldwyn classy-ass charm combined with lines like 'How much of a coward was I to marry her and not wait for you to show up?' that make us melt to the floor in a puddle and want Tony to be standing waiting for us in a church somewhere) not only with Olitz but all the characters. She's created them, kind of like God – and don't we all get mad at God when something doesn't go as we wanted for people we love? Fitz and Liv are endgame, we all know it. And while I was scared that Shonda was going to go a little too Olivia's a "Strong independent black woman who don't need no man" [snaps in z formation] on us… the scene where Olivia was digging through the trash to answer his phone call cleared that up for me. Anyway… In Shonda We Trust (I mean c'mon, who else would have brought us that fantastically sweaty, adorably curly basketball game?). Enjoy the chapter my friends….

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Eleven: Shaken

Fitz had been lying still for what must have been at least a fair amount of time, ut while Olivia stared at him lying on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance. But he was still shaking, it was like he was still seizing before her eyes. It didn't matter that they had drugged him up, that he was unconscious, or that he was hooked up to machines to monitor his breathing, his heart rate, and even his blood flow. His oxygen mask was on his face, and that Tom was standing with his hand on her shoulder. But Fitz was still shaking, and all they seemed to be able to do was pile more blankets onto her lap. Though that might all have more to do with the fact that she was shaking with adrenaline.

"Miss Pope," Tom said, and she looked up just a little bit, "He's going to be ok. Look at his heartbeat, he's fine. He's going to be fine. We're almost to the hospital now. The new Doc's all up to speed, and we're going to get him right in to see exactly what's going on."

"Tom, I can't- " Olivia started to speak, and Tom fixed a blanket that had apparently been over her shoulders, "I can't do this. This isn't – "

"Miss Pope," One of the EMTs interrupted her as he walked from sitting over by Fitz's side to be in front of her, "His heart beat is stable, and we just had to knock him out so that he wouldn't panic. It's stable, but a little weak. We called ahead to the hospital and there going to bring him right into an MRI, and get him up to a room while it's processed. We'll have you in the waiting room, but then you'll be brought up to his room to wait for the doctor."

"Ok," Olivia barely got the word out, but Tom nodded – and she had a feeling that it didn't really matter what she had said anyway.

She was also the crying, shaking girlfriend, so she even knew that she was not someone that they were going to listen to. She wouldn't ever listen to the woman in her position, it was a shame, too. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought it was a little strange, that the minute a woman cries everyone stopped listening, and the minute a man did everyone's ears perked up. They took more notice of him, and thought he was speaking more the truth than he usually was – that he was somehow saner in his insanity. Because that's what crying was, insanity. It was stomping your feet and sitting there hopeless waiting for someone to come along and fix something for you. Except, that was what she did. That was her job, to just come along and fix things. That sobered her up a little bit as the ambulance arrived outside the hospital, and they had Fitz out of it before she even had a chance to go up to him. That was probably for the best, because she was seemingly frozen into her seat.

"Miss Pope," Tom said kindly from next to her.

"Tom, you're supposed to stay with Fitz," She nearly snapped, looking up at him – what the hell was Tom thinking?

"I'm staying with you," Tom said without any hesitation, "Daniel is with him now, he met the ambulance. You need me a whole hell more than he does right now."

"Tom," Olivia said, as he took her hand and pulled her up from where she was sitting, a couple blankets flying to the floor, "I can't do this, I can't – "

"Get out of the ambulance?" He challenged her with a little look, "Because I think you're plenty strong enough for that, here – I'll help you."

True to his word, Tom took her arm, and guided her out of the ambulance, one of the leftover EMTs offering her a hand down, and then Tom returned to her side. He walked her right up through the hospital in silence, past the photographers that had conjugated at the entrance, and through the main ER lobby. It was in the calm silence, like he had taken a remote and muted everything around them for her, that she was able to take a breath, start to organize and process what had just happened. Why Tom was guiding her through a hospital, and why then she was sitting in a small box of a room with him afterwards. Tiny, filled with uncomfortable chairs, a water cooler, and a box of tissues.

"Tom," She rattled out a breath as he handed her the box of tissues, "What am I going to do?"

"Calm down?" He offered, and she could tell he was bracing up like he thought she might hit him, "Take a breath."

"I'm not strong enough to do all of this twice," Olivia said, allowing the exhaustion she had felt for months to finally take over purely out of defeat.

"What're we going to do, put him in a home?"

Olivia shook her head defiantly.

"I can't see him like that again – not after everything that's happened. We had him back, Tom. We had Fitz, and now what?"

"We don't know the extent of what just happened, Miss Pope," He told her, and for the first time she realized how awkward, and outright ridiculous he looked in his little tiny chair, "We'll know in a couple of minutes."

"But what if that's really what just happened here?" Olivia asked, and Tom sighed, "Why would we be given 'Fitz' back for such a sort time before having him ripped away again? Why? Why didn't he just die when he was shot? Why…"

"Because that would have been worse," Tom finally interrupted her, his voice like he had been holding his breath for an hour, "He got to tell you he loved you again. You got to tell him how much you loved him too. So, if this is the end, or this is when he's going to turn into a vegetable, or not remember anyone – you know that he loved you. You know that you loved him, and it's not just something that fell apart. It was a reprieve. What would have happened to you if he had just died, right there on the spot with no real explanation or goodbye? What's the last thing that you would have said to him? What would have been the last time you kissed him? The last thing that he said to you? The last feeling that you had about him before the gun was fired?"

"The last thing I would have said to him was that he was right, that we couldn't be together," Olivia took a deep breath, "The last time that I kissed him would have been up against a tree, and I would have pushed him off, screamed at him that he couldn't love me. The last thing he would have said to me was that he was paying for our relationship. I would have felt like his whore. Forever. Secret, and dirty, and not really worth - "

"And now?"

"The last thing that he said was that he loved me, and I told him that I loved him too," Olivia swallowed, "He was going to continue to get better, and we were going to be together, whatever that entailed. We were dancing…"

"So if this is the end, isn't it so much better?" He asked and Olivia took a deep breath, letting her eyes close and skimming a few more tears off their surface with her eyelids, "He knew that you loved him, he watched you taking care of him when everyone else abandoned him. You changed his fucking diapers for Christ sakes, and he knew all of that. He knew you loved him."

A near-deafening silence came into the room, and neither she nor Tom felt the need to break it while they waited for the doctor to come. Olivia started to watch the clock after a little while, but noticed that Tom was simply staring at the water cooler, like it would somehow bring him comfort. After an hour, she stopped staring at the clock, and started staring at the water cooler too. After an hour, she assumed that as no one had come and gotten her, that they had had to take him right into surgery. And after an hour and a half she was starting to try and remind herself that no news was good news. No news meant that he was still fighting, that he was still alive, and the doctors were still working. This meant that she was starting to get anxiety about any doctor or nurse coming into the room at all. At two hours she knew that she had to ask, had to find someone to ask – but she didn't want to.

**Two Years Ago: **

Olivia was lying still in bed with Fitz wrapped around her, both of them were naked with just the comforter lazily thrown over them. They were in Seattle, where he had had a speech, and she had been working on a case, digging up some intel on a client before agreeing to take them on. She had gotten to the airport and realized that he was in town, mostly because Airforce One was being housed there for the time being, and security was heightened. There was secret service men everywhere, which is why there was no reason why she shouldn't have seen Tom while she was waiting in line at a bagel stand – waiting for her delayed flight to be ready to go. That's where this had started, the naked – beautiful and naked, lying on top of her, sleeping like a baby – Fitz had come from. It had started to snow, and it had only started to go harder as she sat down to eat her bagel, and her phone rang. It wasn't a number she knew.

"Olivia Pope," She answered, as she watched the snow accumulating out of the window.

"Hi."

"Hi. What are you calling me for?"

"I was wondering if you wanted a lift," Fitz's amazing voice filled her ear, "Airforce one is always a bit more fun than a commercial flight, and a little bit safer, too."

"I'm fine."

"Really? Because it's going to be the first one out of here in the morning."

"My flight leaves tonight."

"No, it's not, actually," He replied, in a rather knowing voice, "All the flights out of here tonight are going to be landed on bad weather."

"How do you…"

"_Excuse me passengers, and those waiting for flights. All flights leaving have been grounded due to inclimate weather, and all flights that should be arriving were redirected to other airports for the evening. That is all." _

"I'm the President, remember?"

"I do."

"So, what do you say?" He asked, "I'll have you back at your office by ten tomorrow."

"It's not really like I have a choice, is it?"

"It's still up to you," He replied.

"Where are you?"

"Classified," He replied, and she could see his usual charming smile, "But you could join me if you'd like. I'm heading to the car to bring me to the safe house – it's not too far away. Weather emergency and all. It's stocked up for a blizzard, if that's what this is going to be. If you're out by gate four in about ten minutes, you can come along."

"I don't think that'd be a good idea."

"And if you're not there in ten minutes, Tom and Hal are coming to get you where you are – your choice," He said, then chuckled, "You can hate me and not talk to me if you want, but if this storm is what they're telling me it's going to be, then you're going to be safe, and warm, and fed."

And she was more than, their evening had turned into a couple days, and after the first two hours what little anger she could hold onto was gone. The first night she had been adamant about sleeping on the couch, she was much too strong to fall to his charms in the first few hours. But then she had woken up to him cooking her pancakes. They had been cooped up in the house all day will just enough wine and scotch until she had fallen asleep in his arms on the couch – passed out. The third night, well that was spent sober – completely sober, because that was the best way to experience Fitz.

"Mmm," She heard him moan slightly as he woke up, and she realized that he was running circles with his finger tips over her shoulder, "I think this blizzard is one of the best things that could have ever happened."

"How long have you been awake?" She asked him.

"Two hours at least," He said, propping himself up on his hands – one on each side of her, "I knew when I was awake, you'd stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you couldn't imagine a day without me," He smiled as he dipped down and kissed her quickly.

"I was not…"

"You were," He replied, "And it made me want to tell the FAA to never reopen the airport."

"I hate you."

"I love you," He said, leaning down and stealing another kiss, "And you love me, too."

"Of course I do," Olivia reached up and ran her hand through his hair, his curls – God, she loved them, "But that doesn't mean anything has changed. It's not like I ever stopped loving you, and it's not like I ever will. Our situation hasn't changed."

"Our situation is that there's a blizzard of the century out there, and we're cooped up in this cozy little house," He said, falling beside her and pulling her into her his arms, into his chest – she didn't protest, "That is our situation, right now."

"And I like that situation," Olivia told him, kissing the center of his chest, "But that'll change today, the snow's supposed to stop at noon."

"I could pull some strings," He said, rolling onto his back, and pulling her with him so that she was on top of him.

"Fitz," She said, not even sure why she was about to say what she was as he fixed the comforter over them, "You know you can't do that."

"I could," He said as she reached up and started tracing his collar bone.

"You can't."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Alright," He smiled sadly, "Fair enough."

"Good, you're still scared of me."

"Terrified," He replied, leaning forward and kissing her forehead sweetly, "Just promise me this:"

"What?"

"That when our situation does change, you'll be here. Right here, in my arms."

"I already promised you that."

"I'm just checking."

**Present Day: **

She hadn't even realized that she had started shaking again until she felt Tom's hand on her shoulder, firmly holding her still, and in the downward motion so that she was in fact sitting. She looked over at him, peeling her eyes away from the icy blue that told her that things might just be ok, and that she shouldn't panic yet, to Tom's face. His eyebrows were up, and his eyes were wide with worry for her.

"Miss Pope…"

"God damn it, Tom," She said, her voice stronger than she had expected, and she swallowed, letting her voice go a little softer, "Would you just call me Olivia?"

"Of course, Miss Pope," He refused politely, in a little tease, and she rolled her eyes as he opened his mouth, "Stop panicking. You're not going to be able to help anyone –"

He stopped and Olivia whipped around to see a doctor, still scrubbed up and standing in the doorway.

"Miss Pope?" He asked, looking down at the chart in his hands, "May I speak with you about the President's surgery?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I haven't cleaned up, but it occurred to me that no one had come to speak with you at all yet," He said, and Olivia nodded, "Well, once he was in the MRI, he had another seizure. We calmed him again, and went through with the process – we found a bleed, that by the looks of it had been prominent for about a week. We took him into surgery, and fixed it. It had scar tissue around it, and there was just enough so that we could get to it Anymore, and we might have caused more brain damage than he already has. Before I came down here, I was looking at the MRI's that were sent over to us, and realized that this bleed was a much smaller bleed, covered by scar tissue and hidden from the MRIs that were previously taken. Something must have happened in the last week that caused it to rupture and start bleeding more…"

"He fell," Olivia said, and the doctor nodded interestedly, "He tried to get himself onto the couch, and he fell. It was quick, he hurt his knee – he was fine."

"On the outside," The doctor said, "Don't worry, it could have happened to anyone. You didn't know that the small bleed was still trickling. His previous surgeon probably thought it would have healed itself, it's the assumption most of us would have made. The surgery went beautifully, and he's in his room for recovery. I'd like to offer to personally bring you up there myself."

Olivia was speechless.

"We'd like that," Tom said for her, and Olivia nodded.

"I'd like to warn you," The doctor said as he led them towards the elevator, "We won't know what his cognitive function will be when he wakes up – which could be any minute – will be. The brain is a tricky organ, there's too much that we don't know about it. I'd like to tell you it will be the same as before the seizure, that's certainly what we're hoping for – but we simply can't know until he's woken up and he's spoken a few words. He'll most likely be staying here a week, so that we can monitor him."

"That's fine," Olivia found her voice as he paused outside of a room – she and Tom stopping abruptly with him – had they really been walking that quickly behind him?

"We can go in?" Tom asked, and the doctor nodded.

"He'll be sleeping still, most likely," He said, and Olivia nodded, "But you two can go right ahead on in. If you don't mind I'm going to go clean up, and I'll be back."

"No problem, and thank you, doctor," Olivia said as he nodded 'welcome' and headed in the other direction – where she assumed there were showers and a locker room.

"Ready?" Tom asked, and Olivia nodded as he pushed the door open.

They walked in to a familiar seen. Fitz was plugged into a whole bunch of machines, and had oxygen running directly into his nose. His head was wrapped up in a bandage, which she could now identify as the orginal bandage after surgery. It was big and clunky, and most of it was just there to hold a little bit on, but they didn't want to risk a thing right after surgery. Within a day they would take it off, and replace it with a smaller one, and they would keep getting smaller until he wouldn't need one. So that wasn't the thing that got her as she walked in, Tom following her close behind. It was the fact that his eyes were already open, and he was staring at her, completely confused. He still didn't have complete function of his face, so it had the same neutral appearance it had had for months, but he was looking at her strangely.

"Livy, what're you doing here?"


	12. Time-Lapsed

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Twelve: Time Lapsed

"Livy, what're you doing here?"

It was short, simple – but compared to what he had been saying, the phrases he'd been able to string together, she was floored. It took her almost a full minute to recover, and she could feel a smile spread wide across her face. She didn't even have to look back at Tom as he set his hand on her shoulder. Was she crying again? She reached up and wiped away the tears, and knew that they were good tears, not the feeling she was used to feeling as she walked over to the edge of the bed, and took his hand. He just sort of watched her, letting it happen with same sort of confused look on his face, like he knew that he was very clearly missing something.

"Livy, listen – it's ok," He said, "I'm fine. Who called you? Did Cyrus call you? Because I didn't – I don't need you here. What I said the other night – "

He didn't remember. He didn't remember any of it, and his words hit her like he was chucking bricks at her. He didn't remember Mellie leaving, the baby, waking up and not being able to speak. The fact that Edison wasn't around, the nights she had spent on the cot in the corner of his bedroom. All the equipment that crowded her living room, or the ball they had just been at a few hours earlier, the way that he had held her on the dance floor. All the things that she had done so that he could have what he wanted when he should have already had them. All the tears that they had both shared, and the breakfasts Tom had made them. Speech therapy, the way he had woken up from his coma and just known who she was. It was all gone, and he didn't remember any of it. It was almost like none of it even happened.

"Mr. President," Tom spoke up, mostly because she couldn't and to stop her train of thought right where is was, "What's the last thing that you remember?"

"Oh, c'mon Tom," He said flatly, there was still almost no emotion in his voice, "You got me into the car to go to the Gala. You rode in the front seat. I assume we crashed or something. Where's Mel? Is the baby ok?"

"Mr. President," Tom said and Olivia got up, "Miss Pope.."

"I can't –"

He was looking up at her, and she knew he was reading the panic right off her face. She had dropped his hand, but he reached up and grabbed her's – and frowned slightly when it was a little slower than he thought it would have gone. She grabbed his hand, and stroked the back of it.

"Livy…The baby- "

"Fitz," Olivia tried to catch a breath, and Tom stepped in.

"Sir, the First lady, and the baby are just fine," He said quickly, he was watching Fitz's heart monitor, and Olivia was too, "I just need a word with Miss Pope out in the hall."

Olivia was trembling as she got up out of her chair and walked out into the hallway with Tom. He just stood there for a minute, leaning on the far wall as she tried to calm herself down. She fell with the entire body weight against the wall, and it didn't take her too long before she had just about dissolved into a puddle, crouching near the floor of the hospital. Head in her hands, face completely covered – and she was crying again. Though, she was completely at a loss as to why she was crying this time. Wasn't this what she had wanted all along? Her pre-shooting Fitz back? She was the only one that he had left – she needed to get it together, if only just to get the words out to him. To explain what had happened. Tom knew that it had to be her too, because he was standing on the other side of the hall, just waiting for her to be ready to go back into Fitz's hospital room.

What he had said in there – he hadn't meant it. He had no idea what had happened in the past two months, never mind that two months had even passed. He was trying to push her away, he didn't know any better. That whole speech he had given her in the restaurant two months ago, it seemed like a lifetime ago to her, but it was a week ago for him. It was fresh, clean, and while it had been very obviously bullshit – he was still trying to push her away. Make it easier on her, at least for the time being. He felt conflicted as it was, she could tell by the way that he was phrasing things. She could hear it even in his monotone. This was the exact mindset she needed to keep, and she looked up at Tom. He nodded understandingly, giving her an extra half a second before reaching down and giving her a hand to pull her up.

"Do you want me in there with you?" He asked quietly, and Olivia shook her head slowly.

"No, he'll want it to just be me," She replied softly, "He's not going to be ok, once I tell him."

"And you can handle that?"

"He's weak. He doesn't want an audience."

"I don't really give a crap about the guy's ego. I'm worried about you, Miss Pope."

"I can handle it. I've handled worse."

"Miss Pope, you are the strongest woman I have ever met."

"Don't make me cry, Tom," She said, letting her eyes close so that she could re-brace herself, "He's going to do enough of that without your help this time."

She took a deep breath, and walked back into the room, slightly slower than she had before when she had just rushed into it. He looked up, and she paused, then walked over and took the seat by his bed. The doctor hadn't been in yet, but she doubted that him explaining that Fitz had had a seizure would make any sense to him at all. It would just confuse him if she didn't explain what had happened, and what was going on first. She pulled the chair over, and took the hand that worked better, and squeezed it lightly.

"How did you know – "

"Fitz, this wasn't a car accident," She told him quietly, and he just looked at her, "I'm going to tell you something that's scary, but I just want you to let me break before you ask any questions, ok? It's-"

"Liv, just tell me already."

"You made it to the gala," She told him, "There was an assassination attempt while you were walking in. You were shot. Once in the chest, and once in the head. Tom got you out of there faster than I could get there, but Cyrus got me to the hospital just after the hospital."

"I was shot?"

"You were shot," Olivia replied, "The damage was – significant."

"What?"

"Fitz, your legs, they probably feel sore, and almost half asleep," She told him, and he nodded, "Yeah, that's because they don't work. You can move them a little bit – you can kick, but you can't walk, and you're most likely not going to be able to again. You have limited motion in your arms, but it's a lot better than it was. Your right arm was relatively untouched, your left gives you trouble sometimes."

"How do you know all of this?" He asked her, mostly in awe.

"I know this because, Fitz, this all happened two months ago," She said it slowly, like it might hurt less, like it might be a little less scary that he couldn't remember what had happened in the past two months of his life.

"What? That's ridiculous – Livy… that can't be – " He stopped mid sentence like he was waiting for her to tell him it was all some kind of joke.

"I'm sorry Fitz," She told him, taking a deep breath.

"What -?"

"You were in a coma for about two weeks," She told him, his eyes wide open and he was listening, "Once you woke up from that – the damage – You couldn't speak. You could barely move. We weren't even entirely sure you were still in there."

"What?" He said, seemingly noticing that she was upset and squeezing her hand slightly, "Olivia, this is ridiculous, you expect me to believe…"

"Fitz," She held up her phone screen, which prominently displayed the date and time, "It's February first. I can show you your scans from almost every other week since the date of the gala. I'm sorry."

The room, and from the deafeningness of it she presumed the whole hospital, went silent and still as he stared at the phone. After almost a full two minutes, he looked away from it, and she slipped it back into her purse as he gripped her hand. She watched as he looked up at the ceiling for a while, like he was trying to process when a pained expression came over his face, and she reached over to run her the back of her hand down his cheek. He sighed, but didn't say anything as he looked over at her quietly, she could see tears starting to form in his eyes, but knew better than to reach up and wipe his eyes. No matter how much she wanted to, no matter how used to doing that she was – she knew it was probably the last thing that he wanted her to. It took him a couple more minutes before he said anything, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

"So what happened?"

"You were shot on your way into your birthday gala two months ago – "

"I got that part," He said, "What happened next? I couldn't talk? You said I was going in for scans all the time?"

"Not all the time," Olivia replied, and she took a breath, "Sally's president. Mellie signed the divorce papers, she's gone, she took off almost as soon as you woke up. When we found out what shape you were in, and who you left your emergency care to."

"Sally?"

"I'm sorry," Olivia said, and he took a breath, "There was nothing that we could do. Even now you're not – "

"I know. I assume the country's still running – and it'll be fine for the next year or so," He said, taking a hard swallow, "What happened with the investigation? Who did this?"

"Verna," Olivia told him, and his eye brows perked up, "It's not official, she confessed to Cyrus just before she died. She's dead."

"Verna?"

"I was surprised as you are."

"Cy – where's Cyrus?"

"He's on a campaign. He stuck around for a couple weeks, then took off. He's been in and out. Helping you out when he could."

"Couldn't really expect much more," Fitz said, and Olivia nodded.

"Mellie…"

"C'mon, Liv, her leaving when she found out I was going to be severely damaged, unable to speak? That wasn't really a surprise to anyone, was it?"

"Not really."

"I knew she wouldn't like the proxy thing," He said simply, rolling his eyes, "But at that point, it wasn't about her. I wanted to make sure that you were ok, that's why I did it. Mellie's – she'd be just fine if I croaked tomorrow. You, I wasn't so sure about."

"She was going to put you in a nursing home, in a bed. That was her suggestion to me when she left," Olivia told him, "Instead, we had you in physical therapy just about every day. We had you talking in one or two word phrases. You were doing well…we had you wheeling yourself around, you wouldn't put up with the electric one. You were remembering things, your were just starting to act like you again…"

"So why am I here?" He asked, as she looked over at his bag of painkillers, making sure that they were still dripping into his IV.

"You had a seizure earlier tonight."

"So they called you in."

She froze for a minute.

"…Yeah," She said, taking a breath, "They brought you into surgery, and found a bleed they didn't realize was there before. Apparently, it was affecting your speech the whole time, at least that's what I'm assuming."

"So why can't I remember the last two months?"

"I don't know," She said, taking a deep breath, "I'm not a doctor, but I've seen all your scans, your brain – I think anything they do it, even if it was fixing a bleed would screw something up."

"I'm sorry," He told her slowly, and she nodded, "You didn't deserve whatever hell I've put you through in the past couple months. You don't deserve – not after how I treated you like that."

"It's really ok, Fitz."

"It's not," He said, dropping her hand, "I can only imagine the lies you've had to tell your boyfriend."

"Boy-? Edison?" She had completely forgotten, and he looked slightly worried about her, "Don't worry, that's been over."

He breathed out heavily.

"Well, I can't pretend I'm not happy about it," He said, in what normally would have been cheerful and teasing, "But I'm sorry. I wanted you to have an easier life, I'll change my medical proxy – I won't be your problem anymore. But at least now you can move on with someone that's good enough for you. Not that twit."

"..Yeah," Olivia took a breath, and straightened up as Fitz looked up at her.

"The kids? The baby?"

The baby. She had to break that news to him again? This time he was going to know the gravity of it, too. How the hell-?

"The kids came and visited you," Olivia told him, and he nodded, "Once, before Mellie wouldn't let them come again. The baby was born about a month after the assassination attempt. I called Mellie, and she –"

"She told you it wasn't mine," He said, and Olivia was surprised, "I knew it wasn't mine. She didn't have to tell me, I just figured I should pony up because the kid's real dad wasn't going to be around. Part of the game you two devised, right? Anyway, I guess I don't have to now she's divorced me. Nice."

"Fitz," Olivia said quickly, about to tell him the truth, and he looked up.

"You can go, if you want," He told her, "I'll be fine."

"I'm still your proxy."

"Right, I probably have to get checked, huh?" He said, and Olivia nodded slowly.

"I believe so," She said, and he nodded, "Fitz – It was no problem taking care of you…"

"No problem?" He questioned her, "Livy, I've been nothing but a huge problem for you. How long have I been asking you to wait for me, and now _this_? How many actual relationships – not to say we weren't real – but how many more adequate guys have you passed over? How many better lives have you passed over? I'm nothing but a mess, and a problem for you. I'll be ok, I want you to stop worrying about me. Stop waiting. There's no point, is there?"

This wasn't him pushing her away like he had been before – this was a different kind of push. But how could she fix this? How could she, after all the guilt that he had over what had happened tell him what had happened, how he had lived in her apartment? It wasn't the way she wanted things to go, even if it did keep her in his life. That wasn't the point. She didn't want him to feel bad about everything, and then feel even worse once he realized just how much had happened to get him, and keep him in the condition that he was in. He had way more to process, and go through without having to realize that. At this point, she wasn't important to the course of the story. If he loved her, he would find her, right? In the end, if it was what he wanted he would be there. There had never been a time that he was absent when he didn't want to be absent. He was back, and he wasn't her hurt puppy anymore. He didn't need her.

"Keep me as your proxy."

"Why?"

"Because I'm still not going to be ok," She said, and he took a deep breath, she watched his chest rise and fall.

"You need to be."

"Which is exactly why you're going to keep it the way it is."

"I don't think so," He replied, not unkindly, "You need to move on, and you can't do that if you're always expecting a call."

She would be anyway.

"The doctor said he'd be in in a minute," Tom said calmly as he walked into the room, "I explained the situation to him, and he said he'd give us a few more minutes for him to get acclimated to all the news coming at him at once."

"We're done," Olivia said, and she could hear her voice crack a little bit, "He's all brought up to speed. He's ready to hear about the seizure bit, and how the surgery went."

"Miss Pope?" Tom walked in as she got up, needing to leave before she started to cry in front of him, "Where are you going?"

"Give me a call if I'm needed," She said simply, "But I'm going home."

"_What?!_"

"I'm going home," Olivia said somewhat more forcefully, "We all know I need the sleep, I'll call you in the morning when I probably won't hear from you tonight."

"Miss Pope –"

"Don't worry about it, Tom," Olivia said, taking a deep breath, "I'll call a cab."

He didn't need her anymore.

* * *

A/N: I broke my own heart writing this, but it's how I had it going… yell at me if you must… hope it was at least entertaining to you all… :) I'll try to have another update soon.


	13. Kids

A/N: Hey guys – I've been so busy this weekend, sorry this is coming in so late. Also, I apologize for the brevity of the chapter, but sometimes I just find a good place to stop, and it'd be a shame to keep rambling on pointlessly. Enjoy :)

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Thirteen: Kids

Fitz was sitting in the corner of the living room of a safe house that had essentially been flipped into a real home for the time being. His wheel chair was uncomfortable, and he was looking across the room at the side that was filled with all sorts of physical therapy equipment – which he had been told were dropped off the day before he had gotten to come home. After he had told the doctors that he planned on doing his rehab in home, but no one had come in yet. He had just gotten home a couple of days ago, he was still on resting orders. He had wanted to go back to Santa Barbara, but understood that all his doctors, his nurse, and his physical therapists had already been hired and vetted, signed secrecy agreements – the whole nine yards. So, he sat there waiting for the kids to get there for the weekend, and trying to avoid Tom's ever insistent glare.

Tom had been in a constant state of a sort of cloud like gloom since Olivia had walked out of the hospital room two weeks ago. The glare was almost deathly, and Fitz couldn't really get a comfortable feeling with the way that he was glaring. The nurse, who he was told was named Natalie, came very rarely, but came and checked on him – gave him tips for cleaning himself, taking care of himself, things like that. But Tom, there was just something about the way he was glaring at him that just always made Fitz feel like he was somehow insulting, or was continually offending him.

"What time is it?" Fitz asked him.

"It's almost eleven, your therapist should be here any minute, Sir," He said, "The kids should be getting here just after noon-time. Sir."

"I told you, and I told the doctors at the hospital, I don't need to talk to a therapist," He said, wheeling himself about halfway across the room, and stopping – his weaker arm hurt.

"It was a qualification of them not sending you to a rehab center," Tom replied curtly, "Sir."

"Fine," Fitz said, massaging his forearm, and looking to Tom, "Why are you even here, Tom?"

"I'm your detail, Sir."

"But it's clear that you don't want to be," He said, and Tom simply stood there, stone faced – Fitz was still rubbing his forearm.

"Sir, I was asked months ago if I wanted to be reassigned. I said no, sir."

"So you want to stand there and stare down – "

"I'm just disappointed in your treatment of Miss Pope, Sir," Tom said it quickly, like they were words he'd been swallowing for the past week and a half, "If you don't mind me saying, Sir."

"You don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about - and yeah, I do have a problem with you 'saying so'," Fitz could feel the pain in his arm start to fade, and he put it back on the wheel, "Do not bring up Olivia like you know anything that's happened."

Said the man that couldn't remember the last two months. He saw the irony.

Fitz winced as he put his hands back down on his wheels and was heading into the kitchen, stopping right in front of the fridge. Tom followed him in, but just sort of watched as Fitz reached forward and managed to get the door open with his good hand. He had all the groceries put in the lower shelves so that he could get to them without any sort of help. It was also slightly entertaining, and heartwarming, to see every other normal sized person ducking down to reach a yogurt. He grabbed a an orange from the drawer, and then held it in his weak hand while he spun himself around with his good hand. Tom had his mouth open, like he was going to say something, but the door bell rang and instead he went back into the living room, towards the front door. Fitz dropped the orange in to his lap as he followed, spinning until he was in front of his bedroom doorway, and stopping.

The doctor had given him a brace for when his arm was sore, which he was now stopping to get. It was bulky and black, and had a lace-up option, but he just used the Velcro. It took up about his whole forearm and obstructed his use of his elbow. However, it did provide a little bit of support, which was helpful. He was supposed to wear it all except an hour or two a day – but it ended up being the opposite. Tom had commented once or twice about it, but then stopped –like he thought he should care, but then decided he didn't. Fitz slept with it on, and then wore it when it started to hurt longer than a couple of minutes. Strapping it on quick, he made it back out to the living room just in time to see Tom ushering in a short, rather blonde, slightly chubby woman – who he assumed was the therapist.

"Mr. President," She greeted him as she sat down on the couch.

"Fitz," He corrected her, and she nodded.

"Are you all set, Sir?" Tom asked like he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Yeah."

"Ok, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Sir."

Tom was gone from the room before he finished the sentence, like he couldn't stand to be there anymore. Fitz tried not to pay attention to it as he put his chair in park and started to peel his orange, first puncturing the skin with his teeth.

"This is a nice set up you have here."

"It works," Fitz said, and she woman nodded.

"I heard tell your kids were coming tonight?"

She was just trying to make small talk, right? The only problem was, he wasn't big on small talk, he never really had been. Sure, he could do it in a political setting, in a business setting – if in the end he was heading for a specific goal – he could do that. But that wasn't the same as having 'small talk' with some strange woman he didn't know, and didn't really want to know. He could, of course, turn it into a business situation with his very clear end-goal being to get her out of his house, and out of his life. However, that would involve giving her what she wanted, opening up at least a little bit, and getting her to leave him alone. The problem was, there was only a very small line between giving her what she wanted and actually doing the therapy. Actually, the line was so blurred, that it wasn't really a line at all. It was just the same thing.

"Just after this," Fitz replied blandly, and she nodded.

"Are you looking forward to that?"

"`I guess," He replied, how else was he supposed to feel?

"I'm just here to chat. Your doctor tells me you didn't want the therapy portion of your recovery."

"I don't see why it's needed."

"Why's that?"

"I can't even remember the damn thing happening. It's not like I'm scarred, or have PTSD, or anything. I just woke up, and this is my life. It's fine."

"And that doesn't bother you? That you're just missing two months of…"

"Nope."

"Well are you worried about any of your relationships with anyone? I can try to help you with that too. The kids? Your agent – "

"No."

"The last your son and daughter saw you, you were sitting in a chair drooling, unable to speak."

"And now I'm not," Fitz said simply, "They should talk to someone like you, though. I should tell Cyrus to find someone…"

"Your agent, Tom…"

"What about him?"

"The relationship between security agents and the people that they guard are usually rather familial," She said, and Fitz just looked at her, "You two seem – strained."

"He's upset."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, he'll come around," Fitz took a deep breath and then tossed his orange peels onto the coffee table.

"It's strange."

"It's fine."

"How about you? You don't seem like the kind of guy I remember seeing and hearing about."

"I'm fine," Fitz said pointedly as he broke up the orange, popping one of the little sections in his mouth.

"Ok," She said slowly, "How are you feeling about your chair?"

"What do you mean? It's not like I have any say in the matter. It gets me from point A to point B. It's fine."

"It's just that usually, with cases like yours," She said, "In cases where the patient was previously very athletic, and quite powerful, the chair is met with a whole lot of resentment."

"It's just a damn wheelchair," Fitz replied, "It's fine. If I don't like it, I'll find a new one."

"No, not the physical chair itself, the idea of having to be in the chair."

"Hadn't really thought about it like that – thanks," He said, in what should have come out teasing, but he didn't really care to correct himself, "It's fine."

"What about Olivia? I notice she's not here."

"Why would she be here?" Fitz asked, "Did she used to come to my therapy appointments?"

"I'm sorry – I just didn't see her …"

"Either way, I think we're done here," Fitz started to wheel himself backwards out of the room.

**Two Years Ago: **

Fitz was standing in front of the mirror in Olivia's hotel room, it was the night of one of his state dinners. This time it was for the new President of Pakistan. He wasn't quite sure why they were still such good allies that he was supposed to throw him a party, but they were. Actually, he knew full well that they simply needed them as an ally in order to not be killed, to use their airspace, and to have their bases on their land without any major conflicts coming from it. It was political, so any personal biases against them had to be swept aside, and under the rug for the sake of personal gain. Fitz felt very much like the lead of a clique of teenage girls, pretending to like someone for the sake of appearances, and to extract something from his victim. That's why he had broken down and had to run over to Olivia's before the dinner.

"Are you feeling ok about your speech?" She asked him carefully as she walked back into the room.

"I'm more confident about it than I am about how to tie this thing," He said, showing her what was supposed to be a bowtie that was hanging limply – half tied into a knot – around his neck.

"C'mere," She said, and he went and stood in front of her – letting her fix it.

"Why do I have to give a speech? Isn't the fact that we're throwing him this party enough?"

"You are the President of the United States, Fitz," Olivia told him as she finished up, giving it a last little straighten, "Speeches are kind of just expected of you."

"That's a little presumptuous of them."

"Who are 'they'?"

"President Damanis."

"You're throwing the guy a party, it'd be almost a snub if you didn't say something," Olivia said, rolling her eyes – God he loved annoying her to get her to that point, "It would be like announcing that you're only having this because it will keep everything civil. Which of course is exactly why you're throwing it, but the whole world doesn't _need_ to know that."

"Fine," He said, not really wanting to argue as he slipped his hand onto her ass, and leaned in and kissed her.

"Mr. President."

"Mhm?" He replied playfully – making her giggle.

"You're going to be friendly tonight, right? No snubbing our allies or making them feel stupid, or inferior, or guilty."

"Yes, Ma'am," He told her as he ran his hand up her back, "I'll just focus on you, where you're sitting in the back, and pretend that he's someone I'm going to like."

"Yeah, just be sure he doesn't think you're coming on to him."

"I think that's a safe bet that I won't," He chuckled, "Not with you in the room."

"Behave," She told him, reaching up and fixing his hair, "And be friendly and charming with Damanis – I know you have it in you."

"I wouldn't dream of disappointing you."

**Present Day: **

He spun himself around to be rolling forward, awkwardly with his brace, and back over into the kitchen. He left it up to her to get out without being ushered, most people would have gotten the hint. Tom was sitting at the kitchen table having his lunch and Fitz wheeled up, putting his orange on the table, and leaning back in his chair. Exchanging quick looks, Fitz finished up – and by finished up, he speed ate – the rest of his orange before saying anything.

"Olivia used to come to my therapy appointments?"

"I thought we weren't discussing her. Sir."

"No. But it just doesn't make sense. I couldn't talk. Why would they have a therapist coming in for that?"

Tom didn't talk for a long time, like he was processing all of it, and choosing his words very carefully. Fitz had been used to the silent type in Tom, but he rapidly was losing patients with it. He needed to know. What the hell was Olivia doing sitting in on his therapy appointments? And what the hell did a therapist know about her other than what she might have seen in a session. But a therapy session while he was barely functioning? In no immediate capacity to talk to say he needed to go to the bathroom never mind about his feelings, and what he was thinking?

"She came when she could, sir," Tom replied simply, not even looking up from his plate, "Physical Therapy, Speech Therapy, any sort of anything, she was there when she could. Sir."

"Right," Fitz said, and Tom went back to his sandwich as Fitz went to throw away his orange peels, "Why would she do that?"

This time Tom looked up from his plate, and Fitz was very sorry that he did. In fact, he was incredibly sorry that he even asked the question in the first place. He wouldn't have been surprised in the slightest if somehow fire and all things unholy were escaping out of Tom's eyes as he glared at him.

"You seemed to do better when she was around, Sir," Tom replied, disdain seemed to drip from his words, "You tried harder. Sir."

"Oh."

"Daddy!"

Fitz was only halfway back to the table when he heard his little girl walking into the kitchen. He could feel the feelings that came along with feeling just a little bit better as he opened up his arms to Karen. His beautiful little blonde California girl, and littler curly haired Jerry was standing next to her. They paused for a second, and looked over at Tom as if they were asking for his permission.

"C'mon," Fitz said, and they jumped a little, like they weren't expecting him to speak at all, "C'mon come give me a hug. Don't be scared, I'm fine."

"Dad, we missed you so much," Karen breathed as she walked through the rest of the kitchen and threw her arms around his neck.

"Hey, sweetie," He said, putting his hand up on her back, "Jerry, c'mon, Buddy."

"Dad," Karen said cautiously as she walked over, and he gave her a big hug, pulling Jerry in with his other arm.

"Ah," Fitz relaxed, squeezing both of them tight, "I love you kids so much."

"We love you too, Dad," Karen said as they backed up and he let them go.

"Jerry, how was your play? You had the big lead," He said, clapping him on the shoulder then wheeling with them into the living room, "I'm so sorry I missed it. How did it go? Did anyone get it on tape?"

"They made a DVD of it," Karen replied and Fitz nodded as the kids climbed up on the couch, "You weren't the only parent that couldn't make it. Olivia sent people to record it. I think she showed it to you, but it's ok. Tom told us you couldn't remember anything."

What?

"It went ok," Jerry said, and while Fitz was curious about Olivia's hand in it, he knew better than to interrupt when Jerry was speaking, it might be another month or two before he did again, "The girl who was playing Lucy forgot her lines in one of the scenes."

"Oh, she did?" He was trying to remember just how many lines Lucy had in 'You're a good man, Charlie Brown.'

"Jerry covered for her nicely," Karen replied quickly, and Fitz nodded, "Do you have the tape here? We could watch it with you."

"I don't – "

"It's right there," Jerry pointed to a pile of things that had been delivered that morning from wherever he had been before his seizure.

Jerry slipped off the couch before Fitz could even say anything at all, and he spun his chair towards the TV for him once he had put the DVD in, on his way back to the couch. Fitz backed himself up so that he was in line with the kids as the play started on his television.


	14. Trying Sleep

A/N: Ok For the first time in a very long time I was actually somewhat disappointed in Shonda for 307 (And you all know I do love her). Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot. It's like she's so concerned with getting people to like Mellie that she is completely disregarding the rest of the show that she's already written (aka showing her having a crush on big Jerry last season - yeah, doesn't make much sense now, does it? Nope - none at all). It's insane. I don't get it. There are a million different ways they could have chosen to soften up Mellie, including the whole episode without _that_ story line. It was lazy writing, in my own opinion. Make Fitz abusive (not sexually), because he resents being trapped into a marriage that he just realized was a political one, Make Mellie have an affair, because she was actually put into the marriage with no choice in the matter, and her real true love die in a car accident shortly after she was forced into marrying fitz – have both Karen and Jerry be the other guys' kids - anything would have been a better backstory for her (I might just thought of those two in about ten seconds). Anything but what Shonda had happen. Anyway…. Enjoy the chapter my friends…

I Know You By Heart

Chapter Fourteen: Trying Sleep

The kids had him up and around for the majority of the weekend. They kept him busy, busy enough to only miss Olivia by about half of his usual quota in a day. He was busy making sure that Jerry knew that while he was a little disabled now, he was still his dad. Who was proud of him, and was more than willing to run lines with him for his next play, and that he still cared. That he was still there – which apparently they hadn't been convinced of when they had come to visit him before. Karen was talking his ear off, telling him all about her friends at school, and the new gossip. He even had Tom bring them out to the courts, and played a little tennis. Jerry wasn't very athletic, but he was good at tennis, and they had figured out when he was very young that it boosted his confidence quite a bit. Karen hated tennis, but put up with it as a family activity, and it was almost nostalgic now that he was bringing them out for it. He had a feeling that he could have brought them to Chuck E. Cheese and they'd be overjoyed and have a good time, they just seemed so relieved to have him back – which had been the point of the weekend.

A byproduct of their weekend was that when Monday morning rolled around and the kids were back at school, he was absolutely exhausted. So, he laid in bed that morning, and didn't bother to get up – what was the point anyway? It wasn't like he could do anything, or really participate. There was absolutely nothing that he had to do that day – he couldn't remember when his calendar had been so open, so he rolled over and propped his bad arm up on a pillow, going back off to sleep.

"Sir," He woke up a little while later to the sound of Tom standing in his room, "Your physical therapist will be here in about forty-five minutes, sir."

"Tell 'em not to bother coming," Fitz told him, half rolling so that he was facing up, and half mumbling it into his pillow, "The kids wiped me out."

"Sir – "

"_What_ Tom?"

"Nothing, Sir," Tom replied in his new surly, sarcastic monotone, "I'll call and cancel. What should I tell your nurse, she's supposed to come in and see how you're healing. Tell her to come in tomorrow."

"Okay."

There was a near silence in which Fitz heard Tom shutting the door over after himself, and about another split second before Fitz was asleep again. He slept until about four that evening, and finally slipped himself out of bed into his chair with a little help from the strange contraption that was next to his bed. He sighed as he looked down at the brace on his arm – at least he had worn the brace most of the day, that was something good he had done that day, right? He ran his good hand through his hair briefly, then started to wheel himself out into the kitchen, slowly, to get himself something to eat for dinner. Tom was sitting at the table, and Fitz could feel eyes on him even as he opened up the fridge, and pulled out something he could throw in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He ate his frozen dinner in silence, and quickly, before returning to his room – and changing into a clean pair of pajamas.

He didn't get out of bed the next morning either, or pretty much the rest of the week for that matter. He didn't really entirely see the point, it wasn't like anyone needed him, or anyone really was expecting him to do much. He couldn't go for a run, or take a walk, or go in front of the American people. There was nothing he could do, this was his life, and if this was his life, he didn't want to be any part of it. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep, because he didn't want to deal with anything, or anyone. The nurse came in and checked him one of the days, and he put on a cheery smile – told Tom to keep his mouth shut about what he'd been up to. He listened carefully to the suggestions she made, getting into wheel chair sports, etc. Then promptly went back to sleep as soon as she had left the house.

He dreamt one day that he was sitting in the Oval Office, but he couldn't move, he was just sitting on one of the couches. Langston was sitting behind the resolute desk now, and she was talking to her chief of staff, who was seen in his dream as Cyrus, but he couldn't hear them. They couldn't hear him either, as he yelled at him that she wasn't supposed to be calling the shots, that she was going to destroy everything he had been trying to set up for the country. But they just kept going, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He was stuck, and he couldn't even get himself up to go over and make them listen to him.

And those sorts of dreams weren't even the worst ones. He woke up from the political ones uneasy, and maybe a little more depressed than he had been when he had fallen asleep. But there were dreams that were worse, much worse. He had dreams that he had finished off his presidency the normal way, the way that he was supposed to have, and that he and Olivia had gone off together. That they had had their life, a kid - a little girl with bouncing curls and Olivia's perfect smile, all of her adorable little features were still fresh in his mind days later. The image that he saw when he closed his eyes, him standing, pushing her on the swing before he fell back to sleep. That one he woke up with a heavy heart, a life that he would never have – a life that had been robbed from him by a senile old bitch who was dying anyway.

Then there was another dream, unlike the other two that stuck out, it was reoccurring. He had it at least once a day, and it only changed slightly each time he had it. The first time, he was in his wheel chair in Olivia's kitchen, he was living there, and Tom was making breakfast. The second time, Olivia walked in and was talking to Tom while Fitz wheeled himself over to her, they were laughing about something. The third time, it became more clear that they were laughing at him, but not really – they were laughing because of something that he did, and then she turned, and she set herself down in his lap in the chair. He wrapped his arms around her as carefully as he could, and brushed his lips over the top of her head. These were the worst ones to wake up to, because he couldn't at all place it, or figure out why he would be dreaming about rolling around Olivia's kitchen.

"Ok, Sir," Tom said impaciently when he walked in one morning, Fitz had lost knowledge of what day it was, "C'mon, you're getting up."

"Leave me alone, Tom," Fitz replied, and Tom shook his head angrily as he dusted off the wheel chair from the corner and wheeled it over.

"No," Tom said forcefully, and Fitz raised his eyebrows, "Sir, no disrespect, but – actually, disrespect totally meant because I'm pretty sure it's clear that I don't have a whole lot of respect for you right now. But there is no way in hell that I'm going to let you and this pity party you're throwing yourself reverse any of the hard work that it took to get you into the shape that you're in. You're not going to lay there and waste away like you feel like you're entitled enough just to sit there and slowly turn into a vegetable. You – you can talk. Your brain is – arguably – intact. It was almost better when you were borderline even conscious – you know why? You wanted it. There was nothing that you wanted more than to get better, and do your exercises – and how fucking hard is it to wear a frickin' brace if it means regaining some of the strength in your arm? So, I called your therapist on you, she's on her way – and I'm getting you up now so that you can shower off and get ready. Sir."

"Who the _hell_ do you think you're talking to?"

"Sir I will pick you up out of bed, put you into this chair, and wheel you into the bathroom myself," Tom told him, "I've done it more times than I can count helping Miss - "

"You wouldn't," Fitz said and Tom didn't even hesitate before leaning over and picking him up, like he was a particularly heavy punching bag, and plopping him – however gently – into his chair.

"Do you want me to wheel you into the bathroom? Or do you think you can find it yourself, sir?"

"I think I can find it," Fitz said sarcastically, though he knew that it still came out in his new monotonic voice, void of emotion.

"Good," Tom said, dropping a towel on his lap, and then a bottle of body wash on top of it, "I'll see you in the living room in a little while, Sir."

**Two Years Ago: **

Fitz was sitting in the Oval Office, looking up at the walls that were surrounding him, closing in on him, slowly cutting off any hope he had at gaining any more oxygen. He took a deep breath, if not only to reinforce to himself that this sentiment was purely something that was playing out in his mind, not actually happening. He had told Cyrus earlier in the day, he was stepping down. He wasn't doing this whole circus act a second more, first thing in the morning he was stepping down. The country could do just fine without him, he had thought that he could wait four years to be with her, but he just couldn't. She had only left the White House six months, two weeks, and four days ago and he couldn't handle it. He didn't even know where he would be mentally if they hadn't had a very convenient blizzard. Like he hadn't made sure that he had found her once he found out they were both going to be in Seattle.

"Fitz," Olivia's voice was quiet, hushed, like she was talking at somebody's wake as she edged into the room.

"Hi."

Fitz smiled weakly as she walked, ever so cautiously, towards the center of the room – she paused, and just stood there on the presidential seal. He had been waiting for her to show up, she was the last one in Cyrus's arsenal that had a dream or a prayer of getting him to change his mind. He had heard more than an earful from Cyrus himself, then Cyrus had sent in Mellie – who just decided that the best thing to do was to scream at him, and tell him how ungrateful he was and how he didn't deserve her to stick around. He stayed silent, there was no way he was letting her change his mind, but he had to agree with her there, he wouldn't wish Mellie 'sticking around' on his worst enemy. He sighed though, as he looked up at Olivia and she just looked so helpless, like a deer in the headlights.

"Hi," She replied quietly.

"C'mere," He said, patting the little piece of couch that was right next to him.

"No," She shook her head.

"Let me guess, Cyrus or Mellie called you," He said.

"Mellie."

"Wow – the nerve of that woman," He said this mostly to himself, then looked back up and continued, "I'm sorry she called you. I've made up my decision, this is a three ring circus, not presidency. I'm doing the country a service by stepping down, if the public found out the levels of the bullshit that's been going on behind the scenes – they deserve better than me. And I don't want to be here, Liv. I want to be with you. I don't want to be here."

"You were elected for four years," She told him, backing up just a little bit as he stood – like she was trying to make sure there was always at least 'x' amount of feet between them.

"I shouldn't have let them," He said, taking a step towards her, and causing her to take three back – he paused, "Being president – its all about responsibility, and planning. And some of that is being responsible enough to realize that there's no way your term is going to end well, and planning a way out."

"Fitz," She said, "I've met someone."

"No, you haven't."

"Of course I have," She was clearly lying.

"What's his name?"

"What's it matter?"

"It matters, because he doesn't exist," Fitz replied as he took a couple of steps towards her, and curiously, she didn't back up any further – she was nervous though, "We both know there's no one else, for either of us."

"Fitz…"

"But that's not really what I'm concerned about," He said as he walked over closer to her, she still didn't move, and he started ushering her over toward the couch to sit down with him, "I'm more worried about why you would come in here and tell me something like that."

"You can't give this up because of me," She told him, and he froze.

"And why not?"

"It's not right," She said rather lamely, and he just sort of raised his eyebrows at her, "You can't."

"I think I'm going to need a better reason than 'it's not right'," He told her, sitting down next to her, and leaning back, "Especially if there's apparently some other guy in the picture – that makes me want to go on the news now, say I'm quitting and going to rescue you."

"That's not funny."

"Who's joking?" He smiled, and he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "Livy, I love you. I want to be with you. I don't want the office. I haven't, and I don't think I ever really did. It was what everyone around me wanted for me, I want something else entirely."

"And what is that?"

"You," He said simply, trying not to make it sound too cliché, "I want to go away from the spotlight, I don't want to be in politics at all. I'll go and work for some business, I have good people skills – I'd sell cars if it meant that I could be with you, have a family with you."

"Fitz.."

"Liv…"

"You have to do this," She said, "You'll never get it out of your system if you don't. We can be together at the end, but we can't right now. We can't. You have to president. You have to stay here, and stick to your _commitment_."

"So this isn't even really about me being president at all," He perceived, and she shrugged, "This is about Mellie."

"This is about you being the guy that I know you are," Olivia told him, "It would kill you to know you let down so many people – on top of the divorce…"

"I don't care," He said, "I don't care about Mellie – I never have."

"I know."

"So what's the problem?"

"You care about them," She said, pointing out the window, "You care about a voters, the people who voted for you, and the people who didn't. You owe them the best you can do, not just abandoning them to Langston. You owe it to yourself. You're being lazy, you're looking for the easy way out – you're pitying yourself. You can't do that. You only have four years – just run with it."

**Present Day: **

"Tom called me in specifically today, do you know why?"

He was sitting in his chair in the living room. He had taken his shower, but he had put on sweatpants and a t-shirt afterwards, he hadn't bothered to do anything with his hair and he assumed in combination with the week or a little less in bed it was looking pretty fantastic, but he didn't care.

"I figure because I've been tired lately."

"Tired?"

"Yeah, the kids took it right out of me," Fitz said, he just wanted her to go away, as per usual, "Didn't get out of bed for a couple of days."

"Fitz, do you realize that excessive sleep is one of the most detectible signs of depression?" She asked him, and he shrugged – of course he knew that, "In cases like yours, it's something we're quick to look out for. It's why they send me over to talk to you. It usually takes quite a toll on the recovery – how's physical therapy been going?"

"It's been going fine."

"Tom told me you haven't had it since the weekend, when the kids were here," She said, and Fitz nodded.

"I've been tired."

"We can help you with that," She said, "There's a couple anti-depressants that I could prescribe…."

Anti-depressants?

"No," Fitz told her with enough force that she was slightly taken aback.

"Fitz, if they can help you…"

"I'm fine," He told her angrily, "I'll be fine. Are we done here?"

"I guess so," She said, but only once he was already hitting the kitchen.

He had wheeled himself in there so fast his wheels made a screetching noise as he stopped, looking at Tom.

"If you really want to help me, get me Scotch."

"You can't drink with your pain meds, Sir," He said it with a purposeful sense of indifference, "You know, the ones you take for your arm sometimes? Like when you got out of the shower."

"I just want some in the house, Tom."

"Ok, Sir."

"Stop calling me Sir."

"What would you like me to call you?" He asked, barely looking up from the newspaper, "Because 'sir' is the most polite thing that I can think of at the moment. All the other ones seem a little too informal."

"That's it, I want a different agent," Fitz told him, and Tom looked up.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to fire me too."

"Sorry?"

"You fired Miss Pope, dismissed her like she was a servant after she took care of you," Tom said, taking a deep breath, "I figured you knew about that, but who knows? She had you in her house, I hear you mumbling about it in your sleep, so I guess you know on some level. She nursed you right back to what you are now with her own two hands, exhausting herself – sleeping on a cot in your room when she was extra worried about you – when you had a tough day. And you dismissed her like she was a damn housekeeper – not the woman who loves you, the only person on the face of this planet – except for those two kids – that really cares about you. She took care of you because she loves you. She didn't let anyone tell her that she should put you into a nursing home to become a vegetable because she loves you. That's why I couldn't just sit there and let you do it to yourself."

Silence.

"I'll make sure there's a new agent here when you wake up again," Tom told him.

"It's ok – you don't have to…"

"No, I want out of here," He said, "And from what I understand Langston's looking for a new detail…"

"Tom. Stay."

"I'll figure out a more diverse shift schedule," Tom compromised, "I can't be here this often. You don't need me here all the time like you did. I'll switch off days with Daniel."


End file.
